


Primum Non Nocere

by Carrogath



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrogath/pseuds/Carrogath
Summary: First, do no harm. A few weeks after Winston issues his recall, Mercy receives a message from Tracer about a new ward of theirs in need of emergency medical care. The patient? None other than Captain Fareeha Amari, fresh from a horribly botched mission to save her mother from Talon and the wreckage of her experimental suit.It's going to be a long three days, indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

_“Oi, Mercy! Did ya hear the news? Ana’s back. And she’s traveling with Jack! Jack doesn’t want to give away their location since they’re being followed around by Talon—but, um, see, the real reason I called is… Well, we kinda ended up with someone who’s lookin’ for her, Ana, and we might need your help with this one.”_

_“Tracer—”_

_“I know. I know what you’re gonna say. But hear me out. We’re not askin’ for you to stay, but we’re low on personnel here, ya know? And people are going out there, getting hurt, and coming back all broken. We thought we could handle it ourselves—got a partnership with the hospitals in Gibraltar—but we need an insider for this one.”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_“I mean, we can’t let anyone know she’s being treated there, and she’s got a few weeks left at least before she can leave. We’ve got hardly any full-time staff thanks to the Petras Act, and the omnics can’t do everything. And, well, you’re the doctor—if you can’t do it, then maybe you can find someone who can?”_

_“You want me to treat someone in secret?”_

_“Yeah. OK, I’ll admit, we screwed up big time—but, believe me, this woman’s bloody amazing, and it’d be a crying shame if we couldn’t at least get someone qualified to look at her. She survived the attack, but we didn’t give her enough ground support, so we had to rush her out…”_

_“How is she?”_

_“Vitals are OK, a few broken bones, gonna need some therapy. The suit, though…”_

_“What suit?”_

_“Oh, uh! Erm, so are you gonna do it? You don’t have to stick around, just tell us what to do and we’ll get it done right quick.”_

_“You’re in Gibraltar?”_

_“Not right now, but Winston’ll be there, and he’ll brief you on the situation. You know where the Watchpoint is, yeah? I’ll give him a ring to let him know you’re coming.”_

_“Tracer, I haven’t—”_

_“See you there, yeah? Thanks so much. Bye!”_

 

* * *

 

Angela left on Sunday morning. It would cost her one hundred ninety euros for an economy class plane ticket from Zurich to Malaga, and a taxi from Malaga to Gibraltar would run her another hundred. She had packed the bare minimum for her visit—two briefcases, one for her clothes and the other for her medical equipment—and did not expect to stay. Tracer had been cautious about revealing the identity of their new agent, and was obviously too occupied doing whatever it was she was doing to explain herself.

With ongoing Omnic Crises in every nation on Earth, Talon rapidly encroaching on vulnerable communities, and everything from food shortages to disease epidemics in the most underserved countries, it seemed that the world, as well as Overwatch, was falling apart at the seams.

Leave it to Mercy to fix it.

It was an average day at the airport—average traffic, average baggage lines, average coffee. After boarding the plane, she slipped her briefcase into the storage compartment, took her seat by the window, and closed her eyes. The plane rumbled to life. Far past the runway, the jagged cityscape of Zurich winked like knife blades in the distance.

She awoke groggy in Malaga. At the airport, she called a cab straight to Gibraltar, and watched as the rocky shores and emerald seas of the Spanish coastline flew by. The cab radio was tuned into a talk show, which she understood hardly any of save for the mentions of “Talon” and “omnicos.” The driver was quiet, although Angela spoke in English to him when necessary. It was a fair September day, breezy, clear skies, too hot. She thought of Mei measuring the Antarctic sea levels, warning that they were still too high, even as ice continued to form at the poles. She thought of Mei, frozen in time, preserved like a mortician’s corpse. For all intents and purposes, Mei seemed to be fine nowadays. She was still in Antarctica, still measuring sea levels, and apparently still in contact with the last few dying embers of Overwatch. Frozen for all that time, and she emerged as if nothing had happened. Angela was almost jealous.

The driver dropped her off at her hotel, where she checked into her room and called the number Tracer had given her.

“This is Winston,” said the voice on the other line.

“Winston. It’s Angela.”

“Dr. Ziegler! That was quick.”

“I was in Zurich when Tracer contacted me. It wasn’t a long flight.”

“I’ll send someone to pick you up. Where are you?”

She gave him the address of the hotel.

“Um. Hmm. Let me see who’s here… I don’t want to send an omnic. Nothing against them, but we’re suspicious enough as is. Oh! I know who can take you. Hold on.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Then Winston said, “He’ll be there in about an hour, give or take. Have you had anything to eat?”

“Before the flight.”

“Why don’t you get lunch? Reinhardt will be there before you know it.” Winston hung up, and Angela pinched her brow and prayed that this was all some kind of long, drawn-out joke.

 

* * *

 

Lunch was seltzer and a panini at a café outside the hotel. She changed her hair, tried to be discreet—her face was all over the news not even ten years ago, and here she would no doubt be recognized. She didn’t know whether applying more or less makeup would help, and decided that if nothing else she didn’t want to appear tired. She watched the news—French police had thwarted a Talon plot in Annecy, and here in Gibraltar there was some new mandate from the British Parliament. Her e-mails were sparse today, though she read maybe a tenth of them at any given time. The streets were quiet at noon. The lunch rush hadn’t quite taken hold. When she walked back to her hotel, a large man with rippling muscles and a dark eyepatch came to greet her outside.

“Angela!” Reinhardt spoke in German. “ _It is so good to see you! Come with me, I have much to tell you._ ”

“ _This is regarding what, exactly?_ ”

“ _Everything!_ ” He ushered her into the car, a weathered old pickup truck that he barely managed to squeeze into. “ _Everyone here has been so welcoming after Winston issued the recall. You would not believe the amount of support flowing in._ ”

“ _But that means that people know about us._ ” She opened the door to the passenger’s seat and buckled herself in. It smelled faintly musty, as though it hadn’t seen use in a long time.

“ _And isn’t that wonderful? Everyone should know!_ ” Reinhardt hit the gas, and the engine roared.

“ _Did you forget the terms of the Petras Act?_ ”

“ _Nonsense! Who is going to enforce that silly rule?_ ” Reinhardt cackled as they pulled onto the street. Traffic was near nonexistent in the middle of the day. “ _We are loved all over the world. I am more disappointed that Lena had to beg you to convince you to come over here._ ”

“ _And I still don’t understand why I was called here._ ”

“ _Fareeha Amari._ ”

The name stirred old memories inside of her. “ _Who?_ ”

“ _You don’t remember? Ana’s daughter._ ” The truck sailed up the side of a cliff and along a sharp curve, veering close to the edge. Angela watched it warily. “ _She used to be in the Egyptian Army. Now she works for Helix._ ”

“ _Helix?_ ”

“ _Helix Security International._ ”

“ _I know what you mean,_ ” said Angela. “ _Isn’t Jack wanted by Helix for stealing from them? If they find out she’s been working for Overwatch—even if it is just to find her mother—_ ”

“ _Hence why we called you._ ”

They entered a long tunnel, and the windows went dark.

“ _Fareeha was ambushed,_ ” said Reinhardt. “ _Talon is onto us. But we’re not going down with a fight. Jack and Ana are still out there somewhere, and we won’t give up until we find them._ ”

As they approached the tunnel’s end, the light grew bright. Once they emerged, she could already see the Watchpoint in the distance, tunneling in and out of the great white cliffs.

“ _You’re all insane._ ”

“ _Ahaha! Aren’t we? Everyone will be so happy to see you._ ”

 

* * *

 

The truck pulled into the back lot. Angela took her briefcase and followed Reinhardt into the facilities, past the launch pad through the side entrance by the long, gaping loading dock, inside and then outside again, until they finally reached the boardroom. The boardroom, which doubled as Winston’s lab, was filled with cables, large monitors, and an array of half-dissected machinery. Winston, tapping away at a keyboard attached to the hologram projector in the center of the room, beamed when he looked up.

“Angela, you made it!” He lumbered over and shook her hand. “Oh, this is great. I can’t wait to share the news with everyone.”

“And the patient?”

“Ah, right! Follow me.” He headed for the doors leading back outside. “Reinhardt, you are dismissed.”

Reinhardt grinned at her as he left. “I will see you later, Angela.”

The Watchpoint was in remarkably good condition, given how long Overwatch had been in disrepair. In the brief time between now and Winston’s recall, they had recruited a number of omnics to restore the base to its former glory. Though it had originally been intended as an orbital launch facility, Angela noticed touches here and there that suggested other, more extensive uses for the base. The number of arms they seemed to be accumulating was questionable, to say the least.

“Now,” said Winston, leading her through the Watchpoint’s hallways at a brisk, loping gait, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions about what’s going on.”

“Reinhardt answered quite a few of them earlier, actually.”

“Oh,” he glanced behind at her, “did he? Good. I’ll make this short, then. About two weeks ago—on the twenty-third of August—we received word that Jack Morrison had rendezvoused with a sniper named Ghost. The sniper turned out to be our own Ana Amari. Although she was presumed dead after a run-in with Talon agents, in reality she survived being shot in the eye. For various reasons, she remained out of sight until she came into contact with our Commander Morrison.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Three days later, we received a call from Ana’s daughter, Fareeha. She was working for Helix Security International at the Anubis facility at the time, but had learned about her mother. She asked us where she was, but, to be honest, we weren’t sure. She came here and asked us everything we knew about her, and we told her when we had last heard from Jack and Ana. We had reason to believe that they were being followed by Talon. Captain Amari asked to help with the search.”

Angela frowned. “What exactly did she do, then?”

“Everything she did, she did independently of Overwatch. She managed to pinpoint Ana’s location in the Mediterranean—Tunis—and wanted us to investigate. So we did. I sent Tracer there, but Talon had reached them before us and Jack and Ana had already left. There was a shootout with Talon troops, and Tracer suggested laying low for now instead of trying to follow them. Then, we tracked them to Italy and Greece, as they moved around the Mediterranean. Just last Wednesday, they were in Istanbul. And that’s when communications stopped. Captain Amari flew here and begged us to find them. We weren’t prepared to conduct a rescue mission, though—so she volunteered herself.”

“She was that desperate.”

Winston led her to a small room, and pushed a keycard to the card reader by the doorway. The door slid open. “It’s pretty sparse, but we’ve been relying on the hospitals here so far. I think most of the equipment here was donated, actually.”

Her eyes flickered around the room. It was small, well-lit, with a few hospital beds divided by curtains, a desk with a computer, several drawers, and two file cabinets. An AED sat on top of the metal drawers on the far side of the room.

“I can order a few things, I suppose.” She brushed her fingertips against the desk. Not a speck of dust. “And where is…?”

“Captain Amari?”

A voice called out from a curtain closest to the door. “Yes, Winston?”

“Ah, I hope you don’t mind. I brought Dr. Ziegler.”

The voice was quiet. Winston peeled open the curtain.

“Really, Winston, I’m not that desperate for…” The woman inside made eye contact with her. “You’re… Hello, Dr. Ziegler,” she said, immediately sitting up. Her left arm was in a sling, bandages, cuts, visible bruising, and a cast on the right foot. That eye tattoo, though…

Angela looked at her, and then at Winston. “Her records. Do you have anything? Reports, X-rays, medical history?”

“Oh, yes. They’re in the file cabinet on the left.” He pointed to a corner, to the left of the far drawers. “Right under her name. The doctors said it shouldn’t be too bad, but we might need to send her somewhere else if her condition worsens.”

“Right.” She sighed, and then looked at the woman again. So this was Fareeha Amari? “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Amari.” She extended her hand, received a firm shake in response. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

She shook her head, and picked the tablet that was sitting in her lap. “I think I’m all right for now.”

“Who’s looking after her?” she asked Winston.

“An omnic,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “He goes by Sykes.”

“So she has an omnic for a nurse?”

“Did I mention we were understaffed?”

“I’ll be fine, Winston!” said Amari. “I just need rest.”

“You’ll need more than rest,” said Angela. “But I’ll see to that.”

Amari looked at her with an odd mix of wariness and interest. Her eyes flickered up and down. “So, you’re Dr. Ziegler.”

“Yes,” said Angela. “Haven’t we met before?”

She shrugged with her free shoulder. “At least once or twice.”

She frowned. “No, we definitely have.” A hazy memory surfaced, one of Fareeha as a lanky teenager gawking at her from behind a corner at the entrance to some UN building. She almost blushed. “Wait. _Fareeha_?”

She grinned. “Is there a problem?”

“No, I just…” Angela stared at her, long enough to be considered impolite. She was taller and sturdier than her mother, with Amazonian proportions. But the face, the skin, the hair—she was the spitting image of Ana. “You’re really doing this,” she said, and sighed. “I suppose it isn’t Overwatch if it isn’t personal.”

“Are you good?” asked Winston, heading for the door. “I can give you a proper tour of the facilities.”

She felt weary at even the thought of it. “Not now, Winston.” She turned back to Fareeha—God, and it was even that Fareeha—and said, “I’ll take inventory of the equipment here and then check your vitals. You look fine, but like any good soldier I’m sure you’re just hiding it.”

“I’ll give you two some privacy, then,” said Winston.

The door opened and closed shut, and then there was silence.

 

* * *

 

Sykes came by in the afternoon to deliver tea—he was a British omnic, according to Fareeha—and Angela handed him her inventory report to give to Winston. It was well-furnished for what was apparently a slapdash job; she expected it to be a regular doctor’s office and it nearly delivered. At the very least Fareeha would require a few more visits to the local hospital. Once her arm healed, she would be able to use crutches, but that foot was going to hamper her until they got a proper look at it. Most of her other injuries had been light wounds, a few fractured ribs, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with time and lots of rest. Fareeha, for her part, was attentive and well-mannered, but cheeky.

“I expect I’ll get the full report from Winston,” said Angela, clutching a tablet in her hands, “but what did even you to do earn yourself those injuries?”

“It was Talon,” Fareeha said tersely.

“Yes, but those lacerations, the broken bones—what did you do, fall through a glass building?”

“No,” she mumbled, “my suit was destroyed.”

“Your suit?”

“The Raptora. It’s an experimental suit of armor designed by Helix, for combat against the God Programs. It comes with a voice-and-motion-controlled fully automated flight system and allows people to fly with little effort. It… isn’t perfect though.”

“And you used it against Talon.”

“Oh,” she moaned, “it was ripped to shreds. I can’t send it back to Helix; they’ll have me fired for working with Overwatch. Jack and my mother may still be alive because of me, but I nearly got myself killed for it.” She looked to the side. “Winston said he was working on it, but I’m more worried for the suit than I am for myself.”

“You know that Jack Morrison stole from Helix?” said Angela.

“I heard it all over the news, believe me,” she said, smiling. “I personally don’t mind, but the man stole from a private military firm. I would be less than pleased if I were in their shoes.” Fareeha sighed. “I can’t believe he’s a wanted man.”

“I can,” said Angela, suddenly unprofessional. “He… Well, you must know something about the dissolution of Overwatch. You can ask someone else for the details, but what happened was less than commendable.”

“I never said Overwatch was perfect.”

“Twenty years ago you might have.”

“Isn’t that breaking protocol or something?”

“What protocol? Overwatch doesn’t exist, as far as the authorities are concerned.” She swiped on her tablet, watching as the flood of information that Winston was sending her filled her screen. “I can’t believe… Well, I can believe that Winston allowed you to do this—that’s what happens when you leave a talking gorilla in charge—but either Talon is even more powerful than we thought or you might want to reconsider your job at Helix.”

“Honestly, I already am.”

Angela looked at her.

She waved her hand as if to dismiss the idea. “I mean, I’m thinking about it. I might not have a job by the time I get out of here. I took a leave of absence for family matters, but I kind of… stole the suit, for lack of a better word.”

“How do you expect anyone other than Helix to repair it?” she asked.

“Aren’t you all geniuses at Overwatch?”

“Even if that were true, that doesn’t mean…”

“I fucked up. I know. Big time.” Fareeha pressed her head back against her pillow. “Maybe I’ll just stay here. If Jack is a wanted man, I’ll be a wanted woman along with him. Better than being kidnapped and brainwashed by Talon or something.”

“You realize that’s an actual—”

“I know about Lacroix and his wife. But we were so close—so close! I was this close to reuniting with my mother,” she held out her thumb and her index finger so that they almost touched, “and then Talon had to go and fuck up everything. It’s absurd.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Call me cynical, but in this day and age I doubt anyone else would have done anything about it. Overwatch are the only people who wouldn’t let her die.”

“Whatever you plan to do, you need to be careful about it,” said Angela. “Your organs are fine, but your mobility’s been ruined. I’m putting in a special order for some nanotech to expedite the healing process, but without proper therapy it could take months.”

“I know.” She clenched her teeth. “But I feel like I could do more here. I doubt I could convince Helix because who wants to deal with the Petras Act—but Overwatch knows more about Talon than those guys ever did—and there’s hard evidence that Talon’s been tampering with the God Programs, I just…”

“One thing at a time,” she said, slowly.

“I’m sick of Talon being this bogeyman lurking over everyone’s shoulders. They’re out there attacking people in broad daylight, and there’s no organized force working against them.” She shifted a bit in her bed, moved herself up. “The old Overwatch may not have been effective against them, but maybe now…”

She looked around the room again, spotted crutches and a folded-up wheelchair near Fareeha’s bed. How did she miss that the first time? “Have you tried… No, it’s only been a few days.”

“A little bit.” She turned her head to look at what was resting in the corner. “I move when I need to. The other doctors insisted on using a wheelchair until my arm had fully healed.”

“And I would agree.”

“About this nanotech you mentioned,” she said. “What does it do?”

“It’ll aid in the process of healing your bones, provided that your diet is adequate. The solution I ordered will have to be injected into your bloodstream every six hours for two weeks. After that treatment is done, you’ll need therapy, and if everything goes well you’ll be back to work in a month.”

Her eyes widened.

“No promises. And that’s assuming you’ll have any work to return to.”

“Dr. Ziegler,” said Fareeha. “I’d been told you were only staying for a few days.”

Angela looked at her, paused for a moment. “I won’t be the one administering the treatment, but I’ll keep in touch in case there are any complications. Winston wanted me to check up on you and the medical facilities here at the Watchpoint. I’m putting together a comprehensive report regarding what changes could be made. After that, I suppose it’ll be up to someone else to look after you. Sykes seems hospitable enough for a robot nurse.”

She smiled wryly. “That might be for the best. I’d heard that the good Dr. Ziegler’s bedside manner was less than legendary.”

She scowled. “What?”

“My mother would complain that you were always so cold and clinical to your colleagues. Like you were trying to compensate for the fact that you were so young—and so pretty, on top of that. You might have four degrees and enough research grants to purchase a small country, but, ah…” She shrugged. “Maybe the the Swiss are just like that.”

“Are you insulting me?” she asked, astounded.

“I appreciate your help, doctor, I really do. I…” Her smile faded a bit. “I don’t know. It’s so surreal to be surrounded by my heroes—injured, bedridden, stuck in this tiny room with a woman who won’t stop frowning at me—I guess I was just trying to lighten the mood. There’s no protocol, right?”

“Not really.” She held the tablet close to her chest. “I suppose if Ana complained about it, then there must have been a grain of truth to her words.” She paused.

Then, she looked at her and asked, “Do I really frown that much?”

Fareeha grinned. “It’s giving you wrinkles.”

 

* * *

 

Winston gave her his grand tour of the facilities around sunset. She had been to Gibraltar before, though a refresher on the escape routes out of the base was more than welcome, in case Talon paid an unexpected visit. The new Overwatch had recruited at least a dozen omnics to maintain the facilities, and a few local contractors on top of that. As Reinhardt had said, the local community was generous with their support of this new oversight- and authority-free organization, unlawful as it was.

Thanks to Winston’s recall, they had managed to scrounge up contacts in Russia and the U.S., South America and Korea, Japan and England and all over Europe. Certain countries had given Overwatch activity their tacit approval—Russia and South Korea among others—while they were forced to lie low in others. Even this new, smaller Overwatch still had international politics to contend with. Despite that, Angela was not going to allow Ana Amari’s daughter to suffer for lack of proper medical care. At the same time, she was less than enthralled about reuniting with Jack Morrison and his mountain of unresolved issues.

The tour ended back in the boardroom.

“So,” said Winston, reassuming his position at the hologram projector. “Any questions?”

“I think I’m good for now.”

He grinned. “Excellent. I did receive your inventory report. I’ll put these in right away.”

“Overnight the Osteolyte.”

“Understood.” He tapped a few words into the keyboard at the projector, and then swiped. “Um… A personal question, if you would, Angela.”

She looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I know you were opposed to the recall, but you came anyway. May I ask why?”

“You’re asking a doctor—who frequently works without pay, mind you—why she would tend to a badly injured patient?”

“Aha,” he laughed dryly. “I guess I should have known better than to ask.”

She exhaled. “To answer your question, I had a feeling it might have been… personal. I can’t say I expected the patient to be Ana’s daughter, of all people, but after hearing the news that Ana is alive—well, honestly that would have been enough. I might be cruel, but I’m not that heartless.”

“They’ve been on the run for almost two months now,” said Winston, anxious. “Long enough for the news to reach people like Fareeha. Talon is getting bolder. Did you hear about the attack on Volskaya?”

“I did, unfortunately. But Talon attacks are nothing new. Learning of Ana’s whereabouts was at least worth a look.”

“And you’re OK with this? You don’t have somewhere else to be?”

“Winston, if I could be everywhere at once, I would be. I chose to spend my time here for a reason.”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Um, well...” He looked around, then back to the projector. “We’re done here, I suppose. I have to keep an eye out for dispatches sent by the other agents.”

“Where is Lena, if I may ask?”

“Tracer. Ah...” He looked up. “She’s on the trail of Jack and Ana.”

Angela blinked. “Is she?”

“Says she has lots to report when she comes back. We might have botched the first attempt, but now that Talon has revealed themselves, we have an advantage.”

She frowned. “You’re planning an all-out attack?”

“I’m not asking for your cooperation in the matter, and Captain Amari won’t be involved. This is important to us, though. We have to pick our fights, and right now finding Ana is our number one priority. We don’t have the resources to do anything else, honestly. Most of the agents are working with local governments and agencies, either openly as an Overwatch agent, or secretly as a mercenary. They can’t just abandon their posts. And...” He scowled. “It was my fault that Captain Amari was hurt.”

“I don’t think you could have stopped her,” said Angela. “She was going to do it with or without you.”

“But we could have done more to help. We did save her, but we put her out of commission for weeks!” He frowned. “Talon wants those two dead, and they’re trying to keep them away from Overwatch sympathizers. I want to make sure that her efforts weren’t in vain.”

“Who are you sending, though? Who do we even have?”

“Well, there’s Reinhardt and Torbjorn, Tracer, Genji, McCree, um… Everyone else is busy… Who we can send depends on when and where Jack and Ana decide to settle, though. They keep moving around, and until we’re certain where they’ll be, we won’t know how to act. Hopefully it’s somewhere where Overwatch doesn’t have to sneak around so much. I’ve tried sending messages, but it’s hard to say whether they’re receiving them or not.”

“And I’m guessing that’s when Tracer will send her memo?”

“Once she’s determined that it’s safe for us to act, yes. I have a plan in place already, but we’ll need Tracer’s confirmation first.”

“And she had time to contact me in the middle of doing all of this?”

“She insisted. She said it might help to hear it from her.”

“The girl can take care of herself, I suppose.” Angela folded her arms. “We’ll need to move quickly now that Talon is carrying out their manhunt. I’m sure every moment of this is torture for Fareeha.”

“How is she, by the way? It’s only been a few days.”

“Chipper enough to make jokes at my expense.” Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Don’t worry about her. She’s in capable hands.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Dr. Ziegler.”

 

* * *

 

Angela took a light dinner at the Watchpoint, and then wrapped up her work at the infirmary. Fareeha, bored and with little to do, slept early. The rest of the base, while usually quiet, dropped to a whisper once nighttime fell. After packing up her things, she took a detour to look out at the cliffs by the sea.

A booming voice called out to her in German. “ _Beautiful, isn’t it?_ ”

Angela’s coattails flapped in the wind. She turned to see Reinhardt walking toward her with a steaming mug of coffee. “ _Good evening, Reinhardt._ ” She accepted the mug with chilly hands. “ _And thank you._ ”

“ _Winston asked me to drive you back to your hotel. I have to admit, I’m not the safest driver._ ”

“ _I’ve had worse._ ”

The man cackled. “ _That’s good to hear. Or maybe not, haha! Oh, Angela,_ ” he said, leaning against the railing. “ _You poor child._ ”

She looked at him. “ _What’s this about, now?_ ”

“ _You may not believe it, but I still see you as a young girl—barely a woman,_ ” he said softly. “ _Maybe it’s because your face is so youthful. What drugs are you on, eh? But…_ ” The creases in his face deepened. “ _It wasn’t fair at all. The decisions we forced you to make, the hardships we put you through… Despite all of that, we never listened to you, not once._ ”

“ _Reinhardt…_ ”

“ _Who could guess that the rivalry between Jack and Gabriel would turn into that, eh? You saw everything—you knew everything. It was between them and Genji, I think, that I began to notice you fading._ ”

Angela was miserably quiet. “ _Did you?_ ”

“ _I didn’t know what to say, and before I knew what was happening, they forced me into retirement. I feel like I should apologize, but I don’t even know what for._ ” He chuckled. “ _I’m just an old man who doesn’t know when to stop. But you keep going strong. Some days I feel as though you’ll outlive us all, young and old._ ”

“ _That isn’t true._ ”

“ _That’s my greatest fear._ ” Reinhardt stared at her with one grave, intense eye. “ _That we’ll leave you all by yourself, and you won’t know what happened to any of us._ ” He turned to face the ocean. “ _Honestly, I didn’t know if you would even care._ ” He laughed. “ _I couldn’t tell if you were disgusted with Overwatch, or just disappointed. But I could tell that you disagreed with what was happening._ ”

There was a long pause. Angela looked at him.

“ _Just listen to this old man ramble. My little mouse,_ ” he said, “ _you were like a daughter to me._ ”

Angela exhaled in a shudder. She blamed the cold. “ _There was nothing to be done. Overwatch took care of itself, in time._ ”

“ _But it didn’t have to be that way. Did it?_ ”

“ _I don’t know. I suppose we never will._ ”

“ _I’m glad you came. Ana’s daughter is as tough as nails. It would have been a shame if we lost her. You might claim otherwise, but you truly are our angel._ ” Reinhardt took a swig of his coffee. “ _Ah, what I wouldn’t give for your brain._ ” After a moment, he looked at her again with his one good eye. “ _Let me know when you want to get going. I saw Fareeha. I know she’s in no hurry to go anywhere, aha._ ”

“ _Reinhardt,_ ” she murmured.

“ _Yes?_ ”

“ _You and Jack and Gabriel and Ana… You were like family to me._ ” Tears fell from her eyes, sudden and unexpected, and she sucked in shallow breaths.

“ _Little mouse,_ ” he said again, and kneeled and held her close.

The drive back, as well as the rest of the evening, was quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

Angela awoke to hotel-scented sheets. She showered, did her face and hair, ordered room service, and checked her email. Winston had set her devices up with access to the Overwatch intelligence network, and though it was lean compared to the old infrastructure, it seemed relatively stable and secure insofar as she knew anything about online security. She saw little that was of her immediate interest—civil unrest in Australia, what else was new—so she snapped her laptop shut, pulled on her white coat, and went on her way.

Fareeha was alert as soon as she came into the office. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“I’ve trained myself to sleep anywhere by now, I’d think.” She set her briefcase down by the desk. “Though the hotel bed was a little too soft.”

“Those are the worst. I never understood why they made them like that.” Fareeha sat upright, tablet in hand as usual. “Reinhardt came in earlier this morning. He looked upset.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“I think he’s worried about Jack and my mother.”

“Aren’t we all.” She unpacked her things and arranged them on the desk. “How much do you know about Winston’s Overwatch, if I might ask?” She pulled out the office chair pushed into the desk and sat down, not bothering to turn around. “Your initiation into the group sounded… haphazard.”

“He certainly doesn’t waste time,” said Fareeha. “I don’t think I even signed a contract.”

“I’m not surprised. If someone brings legal charges… Well, who pays attention to the law nowadays? Your nanotech solution should be coming in sometime in the afternoon. I’ll show you how it’s administered.”

“What were you planning to do today?”

“I was going to ask you that, actually. You’ve spent, what, three whole days lying in bed? You’ll improve faster if your mind is more active.”

She perked up. “I’d do anything to get out of here, honestly. I usually only leave to use the bathroom.”

“Then let’s go.” Angela pulled out her wheelchair. “Someone around here must be doing something interesting.”

Fareeha insisted on removing her sling and wheeling herself around the base—she’d had to in order to use the bathroom, since Sykes wasn’t a full-time nurse. Her shoulder was clearly dislocated, but she bore the pain in total silence. When Angela noticed her slowing down, she grasped the handles and started steering her herself.

“I know it’s in the hospital’s best interests to rush you out right away, but you won’t get any better if you strain yourself. It’s boring, I know,” she said. A few puffy clouds dotted the sky.

Fareeha took a deep breath. “The air inside was starting to get stale.” Angela looked down, but couldn’t read her expression. “When you’re up there, you feel like you’re on top of the world. I doubt you’ve ever seen the suit in action—it’s incredibly dangerous. You would probably hate it.”

“Why do you do it, then?”

“Believe it or not, it works well in the environments it’s designed for. That means big warehouses full of dangerous omnics. Since they’re slow, and they crowd the ground, it makes sense to fly above them and start blasting them to pieces. With the rocket launcher, all you have to worry about is dealing damage. There’s no need to be precise, and you can avoid shrapnel by flying out of the way. Those facilities are also designed with catwalks that are easy to fly up to—if you’re wearing the suit. Most omnics weren’t developed with the ability to fly, thank God.”

They moved inside, where the walls lit up with harsh light. “It doesn’t sound like the smartest armor to use against Talon.”

“It allows me to reach higher ground quickly. It isn’t much help when one is surrounded, though.” She groaned. “I wasn’t thinking. If I have to go up against human opponents again, I’m either attacking the vehicles or losing the suit.”

“None of the other agents tried to talk you…”

“I wasn’t listening. I would have gone in there alone, and gotten myself killed. It’s thanks to them that I’m even still alive.”

“Then you were just being foolish.” They reached the boardroom; Winston was apparently off somewhere else as the room was empty. An omnic hummed by, cleaning the floors.

“Good morning,” it chirped to her in an electronic voice. It slipped through a doorway toward the crew quarters.

“With them around here,” said Fareeha, impressed, “this place practically runs itself.”

“It’s a little odd; I’d expected to hear Athena at least once while I was here.”

A female voice emerged from the speakers around the hologram projector, and a flickering blue screen with the name “Athena” appeared on the projector. “Did you need me, Dr. Ziegler?”

“Oh.” She looked at the screen, startled. “There you are. Where is Winston?”

“Winston is currently running diagnostics on the Raptora Mark VI, in the main hangar.”

Fareeha blinked. “Is there anything left to run diagnostics on?”

“The helmet, as well as the circuitry inside, was left intact.”

“I see. Well, thank you,” she said. “What are his plans for today that you know of?”

“Winston will be occupied for most of the day. He may be available in the late evening.”

“Understood. You are dismissed, Athena.”

“Have a nice day, Captain Amari, Dr. Ziegler.” Athena went offline, and the screen vanished from sight.

“Huh,” said Fareeha. “How polite.”

“They’re usually not designed to be rude,” said Angela. “At least you can be assured that Winston is thinking of you.”

“Everyone around here seems to think of me as ‘Ana’s daughter,’” she groused. “I know I’m not a war hero or anything, but it would be nice to be acknowledged as myself instead of as someone else’s kid.”

“Perhaps they wouldn’t if you were a little less myopic.” Angela let go of the wheelchair, leaned against the uneven rock face that the boardroom had been built into. “Who am I kidding? Reinhardt still thinks I’m seventeen. Look at where we are, Fareeha. This organization is full of people who refuse to accept that their era is over.”

She rose an eyebrow, began moving toward her. “That’s a mean-spirited way of putting it.”

She frowned. “It’s true. And I know why. We were… like family. I do remember you. You always wanted to be next to your mother. She was a good woman, but I can’t imagine she was at home often.”

“You’d be surprised at how little that mattered in our family. We made good use of the time when could see each other.”

She smiled a bit. “I see.” She turned to the big bay window behind the upstairs office that looked out over the horizon. “My entire life has been about my work, so my coworkers were like my family. I never put down roots. That’s why I can go anywhere.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It is.” She stood up. “Listen to me, blabbing to my patients.” She gripped the handles of the wheelchair and steered her out of the boardroom, back outside toward the service bay. “This place is so quiet, it’s like a graveyard.”

“I don’t want to be here any more than you do. It’s only been three days and I’m already going crazy cooped up in here.”

“If I had a car, I could see about taking you into town.”

“You don’t have anything better to do?”

“This is practically a vacation for me.” Angela looked down at her. “Though maybe I shouldn’t, considering the state of affairs here.”

“Why don’t you come back? To Overwatch, I mean?”

“If I have to tell someone that story one more time—”

Fareeha looked up, as the shadows of the service bay fell over them. “OK, never mind then. But say they find Jack and my mother, take them here. Would you help them?”

“I would,” she said sharply, “but I’m not about to become Overwatch’s chief medical officer again. If the old guard had their way, they would’ve hacked off your leg, replaced it with an artificial limb that shoots rockets, and called it a tactical necessity. Some square-jawed American farmer as their poster boy… It was all marketing. There were cries of racism, profiling. Gabriel thought he was being discriminated against because he wasn’t getting all the glory, because he looked too threatening. It got worse once Blackwatch was formed. Corruption at the highest levels of the organization. Torture. Human rights violations. Have you seen Genji? He’s a good man, but he’s half-robot. It wasn’t my decision. Jack claims the report was lying, but I can tell you, it was all true.”

She stopped at the infirmary and shoved her card against the reader. The doors flew open with a fwish.

Fareeha looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m taking a break. I need to check on a few things.” Angela steered her into the room, by her bed, and opened the laptop by her desk. “That Osteolyte should have come in by now…” She opened a browser, typed in the website she had brought it from.

“Where did you have it sent?”

“To the hotel.” Her eyes scanned the shipping information. No good. They hadn’t updated the order in hours. “Besides that, I left my research assistants in Zurich to their own devices… I trust them, but it’s natural to worry.”

She felt Fareeha’s eyes on her as she paced back and forth around the office.

“You seem pretty restless,” said Fareeha, seated on the bed.

“You would be too, if you could walk.”

“That’s true.” She swung her legs against the edge of the bed. “Say, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Call me Angela, please.”

“Angela, then. Do you take vacations?”

She furrowed her brow. “Do I take vacations?” she echoed.

“It’s a valid question. You said this was like a vacation for you, but you’re still doing work. Have you ever gone on a real vacation? Maybe taken a cruise? Went to the beach?”

She couldn’t remember ever taking one. In fact, she couldn’t remember taking a trip for leisure purposes, period. She’d been all over the world, and each and every city haunted her with memories of blood, suffering, crisis. The one place she felt most comfortable was at home.

“I… often find it difficult to relax.” She looked at Fareeha, tried to read her expression, all of a sudden feeling bashful for having admitted something so personal.

“There’s a joke in there somewhere,” she said. “The genius doctor can’t even take care of herself.”

“I really don’t think...” she said, and stopped. She didn’t think what? That she had time to take care of herself, to consider her own needs?

“You’re acting like no one’s ever asked you this question before,” said Fareeha, smiling.

“People rarely do.”

“Shame. A week or two at the beach might get that furrow out of your brow.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

She looked at her curiously. “Why not?”

“I have a few fair unpleasant memories of being at the beach.”

“All right, then it doesn’t have to be the beach. It could be somewhere else. Do you like hiking?”

“I’ve had some rough experiences in the woods, too.”

Her smile was beginning to fade. “Err, what about a cruise?”

“I’d probably end up in the doctor’s office giving first aid. That’s too many people packed into too cramped of a space. I’d have serious reservations about—”

“But you don’t even work there! Why?”

“I…” She wasn’t lying. “I don’t know. If I’m not doing anything, I’m more anxious than I would be if I were busy.” It bothered her the more she thought about it. Fareeha wasn’t wrong to ask.

“Well…” She thought for a second. “What would help you relax, then? You have to calm down eventually.”

She opened her mouth to say something, and realized that she didn’t know. That she had never been asked. “Why are you…”

She wondered for a moment why Fareeha would be saying any of this to her, even if she were bored, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Fareeha,” she said, drawing her name out.

“Yes?” she asked, oblivious.

She prayed she wasn’t wrong, that all the years she had noticed Fareeha staring at her weren’t some kind of bizarre coincidence. She felt a little strange for leering, come to think of it. How long had they known each other? Practically since they were children.

Well, they were hardly children now.

“Did you have something in mind?” She fixed her with a look. “I’m open to suggestions.”

The woman _flushed_. “I, err…”

Thank God she wasn’t subtle.

“Evidently you did.”

She laughed in surprise. “I wasn’t trying—”

“It was only a question.”

Fareeha took a second to compose herself, and then looked at her, and then looked down. “I… doubt you’d want to hear it.”

“Why is that?” She kept her voice even, suppressed the urge to grin.

“Dr. Ziegler—”

“Angela,” she corrected.

“Angela,” she said, and then stopped and looked at her, carefully this time. “Are you really asking me this or…”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Oh, so the woman who overthinks everything is telling me not to overthink it.” She smiled hard. “If you asked me? You’re look like you’re so wound up you could lose it at any moment. All I am saying is that you look like you need a really long vacation. I never suggested that I was going to be a part of that.”

“But clearly you were hoping to be.”

She grinned. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Then would you rather have me put something else?”

“Damn it, Angela!” She smacked the bed with her free hand. “You cannot be serious right now.”

She broke into an irrepressible smile. “I… I’m not.” She looked away. “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured.

“You’re telling me. I mean…” She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t take you for the type.”

Angela frowned. “How do you mean?”

“From what I knew about you—and I hardly knew anything, believe me—I didn’t think you even knew the meaning of fun. You were so fake-nice to me it was practically a buzzkill.”

“What are you talking about?”

She laughed, for real this time. “I don’t know! I have no idea. I have no idea who the hell you are. You were just my mom’s hot coworker for the longest time. This weirdo scientist who was doing God-knows-what on God-knows-who and looked amazing while doing it. Sure, I had the biggest crush on you for the longest time, but then you sort of disappeared for a while and then I joined the army and then I was at Helix. You just...” She laughed again. “I don’t know. I don’t get it. I’m your patient; you shouldn’t be flirting with me.”

“You’re the one who insisted on it.”

“I was being honest!” Her grin was huge. “Completely and totally honest about the vacation! Maybe I was flirting with you, but I wasn’t expecting you to reciprocate. It’s so damn boring around here, and all I can do when you’re here is stare at your back. It’s torture. It really is.” She threw herself on her back against the bed, barely avoiding her injured shoulder. Angela winced. “Don’t get your hopes up now. You’ll just be disappointed when I get myself killed trying to save some poor innocent omnic from the hands of a crazy scrap collector.”

Angela felt herself grinning back. “You know, most people who are interested in me are too intimidated to say anything about it.”

She rolled onto her side. “They haven’t been staring at you for… God, almost twenty years? Something like that. I just couldn’t help myself. You haven’t aged a day. Whatever you’re pumping into your system can’t be healthy for you.”

“I’m not self-medicating.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“So…” She was quiet for a moment. “I hope you aren’t serious?”

“Of course not.” Her chest heaved with exertion. “You’re treating me. Even I realize how huge of a mistake that would be. I wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere—I mean, you’re such a hardass most of the time—but apparently…”

“It stands to reason that we should be careful. It’s not a good idea while you’re injured, anyway.” Angela turned back to her desk, and sat down to read her reports. The screen, covered in tiny white text on a black background, was unintelligible. She tried again. Her eyes focused, then unfocused. She groaned. “ _Herrgott_.” She was distracted, wasn’t she? Of all the things…

“Fareeha,” she said.

“Yes?” she answered cautiously.

Before she could answer, the phone in her coat pocket buzzed. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. According to her texts, the Osteolyte had finally arrived. “Oh, thank God.” She stood up and headed toward the door. “The Osteolyte’s here. I’ll go pick it up.”

“Um. What were you going to say?”

She clutched the edge of the doorway, looking at her from behind. “I don’t take teasing lightly.”

Fareeha’s grin was wry. “Noted.”

 

* * *

 

Reinhardt, who was off at the harbor doing something or another, offered to take her to the hotel around lunch. The Osteolyte came in two large, refrigerated crates which had to be loaded into the back of the truck.

As they climbed back into the truck, her hands itched for a cigarette. She hadn’t had one in years—in her teens and early twenties it would have been unthinkable, but she cared less about her own health and the years wore on—and wasn’t about to start again. Respiratory problems were far down on the list of health issues she’d planned to have in this lifetime.

At lunch, and speaking in German, she poised a question to Reinhardt. “ _Would you care for a drink later tonight?_ ”

His eyebrows rose. “ _You want to drink with me?_ ”

“ _I’ve been overworked lately. I think I need a break._ ”

“ _I don’t mind, but, uh…_ ” He scratched his beard, hunched and hulking over the little table they were seated at outside. “ _This is quite unexpected._ ”

“ _Is it?_ ”

“ _You want to drink with an old man? Isn’t there anyone else you’d rather be drinking with?_ ”

“ _None so far as I can see. I’m certainly not bringing Winston out._ ” She looked at him. “ _Are you nervous?_ ”

“ _Believe it or not, that is the kind of response you elicit in most people. But, ah, I am here for you, if that’s what you want. The silence from Lena is a little unsettling, no? It makes me wonder if they’re planning something._ ”

“ _Who? Jack and Ana?_ ”

“ _That would be for the best._ ” His huge hand clutched the little glass of water in front of him. “ _Are you getting along with Fareeha?_ ”

She laughed a little in surprise. “ _She’s my patient. Why wouldn’t I be?_ ”

“ _She’s not just any patient. She’s Ana’s daughter. You’re hardly strangers._ ”

“ _We were hardly friends. She’s…_ ” It was natural for him to ask, but she found herself struggling for words. “ _She’s changed,_ ” she said. “ _She’s not the nervous young woman I remember from before._ ”

“ _She’s an army veteran._ ”

“ _As were many of us. She turned out well, by all accounts._ ” She stared down at her half-eaten pizza. “ _She’s a good person._ ”

“ _Are you worried about her?_ ”

“ _Not at all. Once she recovers, she’ll be fine. She’ll have to watch her foot for a while longer, though, to give it a chance to heal. You’d have to be some kind of daredevil to put on that suit, granted. I have no idea what Helix was thinking._ ”

“ _You remember how she would go on about how she was going to join Overwatch someday?_ ” Reinhardt said. “ _How things have changed._ ”

“ _Again with the talk of nostalgia,_ ” Angela chided. “ _Give it up, Reinhardt. Overwatch isn’t like that anymore._ ”

He set his fists on the table. “ _It exists for as long as people are talking about it, and it is far from fading from memory. You’re welcome to join us whenever you wish, Angela. It saddens me to think you’re only here because you pity us._ ”

“ _That isn’t…_ ”

“ _Surely you have better things to do than listen to this old man ramble on about the past._ ” He was frowning, now, deep creases in his forehead.

“ _That was never my intention, believe me._ ”

“ _Then why?_ ” He clutched the table. “ _Why bother coming here? You’re going to treat Fareeha, and then leave and never return? You say that Overwatch should remain shut down, but you can’t help yourself when one of us gets hurt. Why don’t you just stay?_ ”

She jerked back, defensive. “ _I could lose my career._ ”

He shook his head, resigned. “ _Right. We’d be depriving the world of a genius intellect, keeping you all to ourselves._ ”

Angela felt a pang of guilt. “ _I’m sorry, Reinhardt._ ”

He looked away. “ _No. This whole operation could be a disaster. You’re only being realistic._ ”

She picked up the tablecloth in her lap, wiping her hands absentmindedly. “ _I told Winston I would be keeping in touch. I might not be an agent, precisely, but I am a part of the network._ ”

“ _That’s probably for the best._ ”

They called over the server, paid for their food, and headed back to base with their new cargo.

* * *

 

The Osteolyte came in prepackaged, single-use needles. A week’s worth contained twenty-eight of them, for a total of fifty-six. Fareeha marveled at the sheer number.

“I’m going to be full of holes by the time this is all over.”

“Once they invent a better solution, I’ll give that to you instead,” said Angela. “These have to be refrigerated, so I’m having Winston move one of the coolers over here.”

“When do we start?” she asked.

“Why don’t we start at dinnertime? Six o’ clock sharp. It’s a simple shot. You shouldn’t feel a thing. The reason you have to take so many is because most of the medication doesn’t reach the target area before it’s flushed out of the body. It won’t make you sick, but recovery is dependent on diet and rest, among others.”

“I can do that.”

“I’ll bring Sykes in to show him how to administer it.” She looked around, restless. “Reinhardt turned down my offer of a drink. I’m free in the evening.”

“If you’re offering, I’ll have one, but I can’t exactly leave on my own.”

“Maybe I’ll sneak some in, then.” She massaged her forehead.

“Drinking on the job?”

“Of all the stupid things I could be doing, I could think of plenty worse.” She picked up her laptop off the desk. “I’ll be in Winston’s lab if you need me. You have my number.” She headed out the door.

“Are you OK, Angela?”

“I’ll be fine.” The doors slid shut behind her.

 

* * *

 

Winston was, in fact, working in his lab, and upon seeing Angela tasked her with an unusual assignment that led her outside on the facility grounds with a bag of dry cat food and a bottle of water. She found a divided food bowl by the fence and filled the bowl. As she was about to stand up and leave, a ginger tabby cat materialized from behind the fence and approached her.

“Oh.”

The cat slipped under the fence, stood over the food bowl and began to eat.

“Aren’t you just the most handsome thing?”

The cat stretched and rubbed itself against her leg. She scratched it under the chin. According to Winston, the cat had been spayed and was up to date on her immunizations. She was a bit small for her size, as expected for a stray, but she saw no evidence of wounds or illness on the cat’s body. Her name was Nike—Athena suggested it.

“You ever thought about becoming a vet?” The voice was alarmingly close. She turned to see shiny brown leather shoes, clean twill trousers. She recognized him even from his legs.

“Jesse McCree?” She looked up.

He winked. Pressed black linen, pulled tight over his torso, a trimmed beard, and a haircut that must have been less than a week old. Who was he trying to impress? “The one and only. You and that cat make a mighty fine picture, if I do say so myself.”

“I’ve been told I’m good with animals.” The cat skittered behind her. She stood up. “When did you come back?”

“Just flew in from Vegas. Winston called, said it was an emergency.”

Her brow furrowed. “How so?”

Jesse frowned. “You didn’t hear? ‘Bout Jack and Ana and all them?”

“I wasn’t told it was an emergency.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you now, darlin’, farmboy says he’s in Morocco.”

The blood drained from her face. “Already?”

“You’re taking care of Ana’s kid now, right? Maybe he didn’t want to upset you. If Fareeha knew, she’d be twistin’ in her sheets.”

“That’s so close!”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He grinned. “They’re in Rabat, less than three hundred kilometers away. Winston suggested Tangier, but they didn’t want to lead Talon too close to Gibraltar.”

“Is Tracer with them?”

“Holed up in Rabat. Hasn’t seen ‘em yet, but says it’s now or never.”

Angela looked away, drained. “Fareeha is going to be very upset if no one tells her about this.” Then she turned back and sized him up again. “You look good.”

“Why, thank you.” He bowed theatrically. “Not every day I hear a compliment from you.”

“No, I mean it. You’re usually such a mess. What happened?”

He frowned. “Have a heart, Angela! I was gonna tell you that people change, but I see you’re still the same as ever.”

She thought a little harder. “Is Winston really not planning to tell Fareeha?”

“She’ll probably figure it out on her own, if he doesn’t. Not like we got much else goin’ on over at HQ. Might want to turn on the ol’ Ziegler charm, in any case. She’s gonna need it.”

“So I’m relegated to moral support.”

“You were damn good at it when you needed to be, far as I remember.”

She sighed and turned back to the cat at her heels, scratching between the ears. The cat purred. “That was much faster than I expected.”

“Did you have other plans?”

“I…” She had two choices: go to Winston’s lab and watch the live feed of the rescue as it happened, or, as Jesse had suggested, stay in the infirmary with Fareeha and make false reassurances that everything was going to be all right. It was sadistic. She wanted nothing more than to be at the scene of the operation itself, ready and waiting. That hadn’t been their agreement though, and Winston was never going to allow it. She was here to assist in Fareeha’s recovery.

“When is the attack going to take place?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re taking a boat down to Rabat like the assholes we are, rendezvousing with Tracer, and then carrying out the operation by nightfall. Back on the boat and in Gibraltar by Wednesday, if all goes well.”

“So that’s why Reinhardt was at the harbor…”

“He’s not comin’ with us, by the way. Not exactly a subtle guy.”

“Damn it.”

“Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?”

She stood up slowly. “Do you have any liquor, by chance?”

Jesse laughed out loud. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t recall you being such a wuss about stuff like this before.”

“It’s not that.”

“Mind tellin’?”

“Will you try to talk me out of it if I tell you?”

“Depends on how likely you are to hurt yourself.”

She furrowed her brow. “Reinhardt wants me to join Overwatch again.”

“And you said you were never comin’ back. I got that. But you did. Don’t tell me you’re leavin’ again?”

“No.” She clutched her elbows. “I said I’d stay in contact, in case Winston ever needed me again. I was telling the truth about that. But it… probably wasn’t the best idea to ask me to treat Captain Amari.”

“And why is that, pray tell?”

Angela was quiet. “You remember her, yes? Whenever we had some kind of gathering, she would always be clinging to her mother.”

“Yeah, and?”

“She’s attracted to me.”

Jesse whistled. “But of course you couldn’t turn her down, bein’ family of a friend and all. I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t see what that has to do with gettin’ her drunk, though. Why, you wanna b—”

“We are not going to last the night.”

“You might not _remember_ it if you drink the stuff I keep here. Angela, sweetheart, I feel for you, I really do.” He looked away, and then he looked back again. “I don’t mind a little medicinal whiskey every now and then, but that shit’s gonna mess you up. You drink like a goddamned fish, and you can’t expect someone with a broken foot and a messed-up shoulder to look after you in the mornin’.”

She clenched her teeth. “Then maybe I’ll just stay at the hotel until I hear the news from Winston. She can bear it alone.”

“She’s got a cooler head ‘n you sometimes, that’s for sure.”

She turned around to look for Nike. The cat had already walked away.

 

* * *

 

Winston told her that the operation was not meant to last more than a day—two, at most. Any longer than that and he would have to assume the worst; Overwatch wasn’t prepared for anything more exhaustive. The Mediterranean was now crawling with Talon agents, all searching for Jack Morrison and Ana Amari. Some of them were even being assisted by local governments. Either they succeeded and escaped back to base, or Overwatch was going to have a very difficult time in the months ahead.

He had also taken the liberty of informing Fareeha about the operation while Angela took her dinner. She was painfully reserved when receiving her treatment. Angela showed Sykes how to administer the Osteolyte. He inspected one of the needles from the cooler, mimicked the motions, then nodded and went on his way.

Fareeha watched him leave. “I could really use a drink right about now.”

“Jesse has some liquor stashed away somewhere, apparently.”

“Does he?” She was quiet, intense, not in the mood for joking. “Better to tell me now than have me find out from someone else later, but…” She stole a glance at Angela. “You’re not going with them, are you?”

“That wasn’t our agreement.”

“Then you’re stuck here too.”

“Would you feel any better if I stayed here?”

She laughed dryly. “Stay the night, hold my hand, watch as the seconds tick by?”

“Reinhardt isn’t going either, according to Jesse.”

“A seven-foot-tall man? I’m not surprised.” She sighed. “We can all get dead drunk together.”

“Winston will be monitoring the situation from the lab. I’m sure you’ll be the first to hear from him if anything happens.”

“I don’t think I want to be the first.”

“I doubt you want to be hungover when you hear the news, either. Reinhardt will be…” She looked away, at the wall. “He’ll probably be in the lab with Winston. He’s the last person who wants to be drunk during this.”

“What about you?”

She slipped her hands into her pockets, leaned against her desk. “Why don’t we talk about you first?”

“That’s not fair.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about me at all, technically. I can leave you with Sykes, if that’s what you would prefer—or you could watch the live feed with Winston.”  
“Winston seemed confident, but…” She stared at the floor. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “Not while I can’t do anything. I’m just going to hate myself for not being there if something goes wrong.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime, then?”

She glanced at her injured shoulder. “Beats me. Anything I’d normally do I can’t because I can barely move. At least you have other things to distract yourself with. I won’t even be able to think about anything else.”

Angela bit her tongue, resisted making a joke out of it.

Oh, what the hell. “We always have each other, I suppose.”

“Each other and the robot,” she quipped. “I just… Mm. We’re talking about it like it’s the end of the world, but I never get this nervous when I’m the one involved.”  
“It’s harder to be the one left behind, believe me.” She ran a finger along the edge of her desk idly. “I’m trying to think of something you can distract yourself with.”

“I’m sure you can think of plenty,” she said, not quite suppressing a laugh.

“Fareeha.”

“You’re the one who started it.”

At dinner, which she ate alone and quickly, she’d entertained the thought of getting them both plastered and then doing her then and there, in the infirmary, before her courage ran out. It would make the time go faster for the both of them, no doubt, and the place was so empty that no one would have to know. But if Ana survived… If they succeeded… She might be stuck there for longer than she had intended. She’d assumed the worst would happen, and so they’d be miserable the next morning and nothing would come out of it anyway. She hadn’t thought of what might happen next.

“I’m kidding,” said Fareeha, having apparently noticed her expression. “It’s a terrible idea. Don’t even consider it.”

“I told Jesse I might just go back to my hotel room as usual after I’ve finished my work for the day.”

“And then do what?”

Drink, most likely. She knew her limits. “Fritter away the time until I’m called back to the Watchpoint, I’d think.”

“So we’re either doing it alone or doing it together.”

“It’s only one day.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

She stood up straight. “Well, let me know once you’ve decided. You know where I’ll be.”

 

* * *

 

She packed up her things soon after, took an early leave, and picked up an expensive bottle of scotch on the way back to the hotel.

She wasn’t an alcoholic. Nowhere near it. She didn’t crave liquor, had no great love of it, and rarely drank it for the taste, but it was plentiful, easy to find, and inexpensive considering her other purchases—an acceptable vice.

Once she reached her hotel room, she set the bottle of scotch down on the desk, turned on the TV, and let the white noise flood over her.

She thought about buying another plane ticket and flying back to Zurich.

She thought about giving the scotch to Fareeha and taking exactly what she wanted.

She thought about staying in the hotel room the entire day, turning off all forms of communication, and drowning her sorrows in drink. Was Jesse right? Had she been stronger than this before? Would she have simply been content to sit and wait? It was frustrating to not be able to do anything, to see Fareeha so anguished at something that had not even transpired yet, to be told to look after her, when in reality there was nothing more she could do, not now.

She stared at the bottle of scotch.

Why was everything so tempting nowadays? Maybe she was feeling unfulfilled, as if all the lives she had saved and breakthroughs she had made until now amounted to nothing. Life would go on, whether they wanted it to or not. She knew, instinctively, that she would not be able to focus tomorrow until she had heard the news of Overwatch’s fate at last. There was simply the matter of what she would do to fill the time.

As if on cue, her phone rang. She picked it up and answered in English, “This is Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela?”

“Fareeha?”

“This is your number! God, see, this is what boredom does to you.”

“You didn’t know whose it was?”

“I thought it was—never mind. So have you decided what you’re going to do tomorrow? I don’t exactly have a lot of options, here.”

“I’ll be there for most of the day. I hadn’t planned to stay overnight to watch the rescue effort, though.”

“You’re going to work?”

“I’m going to attempt to work.”

“Can I at least help or something?”

“In your condition? I’ve already…” She paused, shook her head, thought for a moment. “You know what, why don’t we just take the day off?”

“What?”

“I’ll ask Reinhardt to drive us into town. I won’t be focused, you won’t have anything to do, so we might as well pretend to be tourists. I’m sick of all this tension. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for the day. I bought a whole bottle of scotch and it won’t do me any good if it stays here.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Ah… Is Reinhardt going to allow it?”

“I’ll talk to him. It shouldn’t take much convincing.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d tell you to get some exercise to clear your mind, but you can’t. This is the next best thing.”

“You are irrepressible, Dr. Ziegler.” She was quiet for a moment. “I can’t think of any way this isn’t going to go wrong, but it’s either that or I spend the next twenty four hours torturing myself in my own head. I guess we’re doing this.”

“Eight o’ clock sharp tomorrow morning, then. Dress for the weather.”

“Right.”

“Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day.”

She hung up, tossed the phone onto her bed, and sighed. So much for “do no harm.”

Then she sat at her desk and started looking up visitors’ guides. There had to be something interesting to do around here, while waiting for the world to end.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Angela informed Winston of her intention to spend the day in town. He gave her his reluctant approval; she reassured him that no harm would come to their one and only patient. Reinhardt was even more generous than expected with his time—he offered not only to drive, but to give them a tour of the surrounding area. Angela politely declined. They packed Fareeha’s wheelchair in the backseat and helped her in, and the engine roared to life as they pulled out of the back lot.

“So, where are we going today?” Reinhardt asked.

“Just the hotel,” said Angela. “I assume Jesse and the others have already left.”

“Before dawn.” He glanced at her. “As you may have noticed, the area is not that big. You could probably do everything you wanted in a day—and, uh, perhaps it is not such a good idea to linger anywhere for too long.”

“We will try to be discreet.”

Once again, they entered the long tunnel that connected the Watchpoint to the rest of the world. “Have ever you been to Gibraltar before, Fareeha?”

“No, actually,” she responded. “Before I contacted Winston, I had never been here before. Certainly not as a tourist.”

“Angela, you took a taxi here from Malaga, yes?”

“I did.”

“Isn’t the Spanish coastline beautiful? The ocean is such a lovely color here, and the weather is perfect. And, uh, if you were looking to drink, the pubs here are quite good. Lena can attest to that. Watch for the monkeys, by the way.”

“The Barbary macaques?” asked Angela.

“Yes. They will bite. Though you won’t run into them in town, normally. Why don’t you go to the museum? Or dolphin watching? There are also lots of caves if you like those. I suppose you can take a taxi into Spain as well, but some of them do not understand English so well.”

“Reinhardt,” she was tempted to ask the question in German, but kept to English, “you said the locals here are supportive of Overwatch?”

“Of course! The authorities would have brought the hammer down on us otherwise. Now, you, Angela, might want to put on a pair of sunglasses or something just in case you’re stopped by a fanatic or two…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“And Fareeha, enjoy your time here.”

He parked on the sidewalk, and they helped Fareeha out onto the street. It was another clear day outside, with few clouds in sight. Apartment complexes and office building lined either end of the road.

“God,” Fareeha groaned, “I feel like an invalid.”

“When are you coming back?” asked Reinhardt.

She hadn’t thought about it. “I’ll let you know,” replied Angela.

He smiled. “I’ll see you later, then.” Then he climbed back into the truck and drove away.

She steered Fareeha back into the hotel lobby. “All right,” she said, looking down at her. “We’re here.”

She looked up at her. “Would you believe it’s so sunny outside? I think part of the reason I haven’t been sleeping well is because I can never tell what time it’s supposed to be.”

“It’s nine thirty-five.”

“So it is.” Fareeha looked around again, anxious now that she was finally off the base. “This is your hotel?” The décor was traditional, red velvet carpeting and glass chandeliers, the walls lined with curling gold ivy wallpaper. “You don’t skimp on travel expenses, do you?”

“You learn to treat yourself when you’re away from home all the time.”

“Says the woman who can afford it. So do we have an itinerary? Or are we just walking around?”

“I expect you don’t want to spend any more of your time in caves.”

“Let’s not.”

“And maneuvering around is going to be a bit difficult in a wheelchair. There are cable cars up to the Upper Rock, and city buses making their rounds obviously—we can stay around the harbor.” She was sorely tempted to drink in the middle of the day, recalling Reinhardt’s comment about the pubs.

Fareeha looked at her. “You said you’ve never taken a vacation before?”

She frowned. “I’m aware of the concept.”

“So then like… What do you do for fun? Or relaxation?”

“I do take time off from work. I just don’t use it to travel anywhere else.”

“You use it to run errands at home or something?”

“Is that considered work?”

“Housework, I think.” Fareeha narrowed her eyes. “I bet you do some really crazy things when you’re off-duty.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Like skydiving, or something. You strike me as a thrill-seeker.”

“I get enough ‘thrills’ at work.”

“My point exactly. Anything less would just bore you.” She steered herself around the lobby, basking in her new found freedom. “I can’t wait until I can put more pressure on my shoulder so I can get out of this damn thing.”

“Give it a few more days.”

“I think the Osteolyte’s working, actually.”

“That’s the placebo effect.”

Fareeha looked up at her eagerly. “What should we do first?”

Angela’s eyes flickered down to her form—broad-chested, square-shouldered, built to take punishment. A few fading scars crossed her bare arms. She was much taller than her standing up, and undoubtedly stronger than her. All in all, a perfect candidate for the Raptora suit. In her spare time, Angela had watched videos from the Helix website demonstrating the suit’s functionality. A lesser woman wouldn’t have survived in that thing.

She smiled a bit. “We’re really going all out with this, aren’t we?”

* * *

 

Even if Dr. Angela Ziegler had not been wheeling her around, Fareeha attracted attention by virtue of being in a wheelchair. People cleared the way for her on the sidewalk, giving her a wide berth, and Angela was immensely grateful for the fact that people seemed to be avoiding them more than anything else. They passed small shops and restaurants—all the signs in English—and heard conversations in mixed English and Spanish, in the local dialect of Llanito.

“If we go to the very top of the nature reserve,” said Angela, “you’ll be able to see Morocco from there.”

“As if I needed any more reminders,” she muttered. “I thought we were here to enjoy ourselves.”

“The scenery might be good for you.”

“Do you think about everything in terms of my recovery?”

“I’m a doctor. Did you expect anything less? Not to mention,” she said, looking down, “it’s difficult to ignore.”

They took a bus up to the nature reserve. A tour guide at the entrance noticed Fareeha, provided a map, and quickly rattled down a list of paths through the reserve that were wide enough and smooth enough to accommodate a wheelchair. White cliffs and green shrubs dominated the scenery.

“Say, Angela,” she said, as they started along the path. “Have you ever been to Egypt?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Why?”

“Have you been to Giza? Along the Nile?”

“I have been to Giza, and I did see the Nile. I can’t say I spent very much time around it.”

“The Nile around Cairo is admittedly prettier, but the views in any case are quite fetching. I…” She paused, staring out at the trees, the bay out in the distance.

“Never mind.”

“What is it?” Angela asked, now curious.

“Once I can use my legs again, I’ll be back in Giza—I might not be back in Helix, but I’ll be back home. I suppose you’ll be headed back to Zurich.”

“Perhaps not right away.”

“Right.” She fell silent again.

Though they moved along the recommended paths, the ground was still occasionally rocky in places. The macaques were plenty—those, and the birds. She spotted them, brown and red and white, perched up in trees and in shrubs on the sheer cliff face, high above and down below.

“Do you think we’ll be seeing each other again after this?”

“That’s practically a given.”

“Oh,” said Fareeha. “You sound confident.”

“You have your heart set on Overwatch, I can tell. And I would rather see you again as an able-bodied person than as someone under my care.”

“Even given that I’m practically asking to get hurt whenever I go out?”

“I can’t say that we’ll remain on friendly terms if you do hurt yourself on purpose.”

The reserve wasn’t empty—there were a fair few number of tourists—but none seemed to recognize her, or care. They stopped by a park bench, Angela partially so the feeling would return to her arms. She flexed them, rolled her neck and her shoulders. She was getting stiff.

“The weather is so mild,” said Fareeha.

“It’s hot.”

“Says you. With the breeze coming in from the ocean, it’s perfect.” She stretched her free limbs. “Isn’t this nice?”

“Mm,” she replied, for lack of anything better to say.

“You’re pretty quiet when you’re not talking about work.”

“I don’t think about much else, I’m afraid.”

“What happens when you go on dates?”

Angela looked at her.

“What? It’s a valid question. Or, don’t tell me, you’ve never been on a date either.”

“I have. I’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted more than a few months. Most people aren’t patient enough to put up with the fact that I’m often abroad for weeks, or longer.”

“Married to the job?”

“You can probably tell what I value more.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’re so dedicated.” Fareeha looked out at the bay, through the trees and scrub. “But I bet… Especially with that attitude, it makes people wonder.”

“Wonder what, exactly?”

“If there’s anything beneath that professional façade. Some sad, lonely woman looking for someone to save her from herself.”

“How absurd,” she scoffed. “I’m not in need of any rescuing.”

She grinned. “But that doesn’t stop people from _thinking_ it. You’re a beautiful, brilliant Swiss doctor. It’s hardly a surprise that people would be romanticizing your troubles.”

“As long as they keep it to themselves.”

“As I recall, you were also notoriously averse to being interviewed after the shutdown of Overwatch.”

“For good reason.”

“So you’re a mystery. See? Romantic.”

“What I know as opposed to what everyone else knows doesn’t matter. It was all in that report, at any rate.”

“Besides that.” She grinned wryly, looked up at her and then away again. “Maybe it’s just me.”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t spend long at the harbor—it reminded Fareeha too much of the ongoing operation—so after a few minutes of walking around, they went to dolphin viewing in the bay. The boat was spacious, and the dolphins provided Fareeha a welcome distraction from talking to her. She hadn’t realized how much of an introvert she was until she tried to keep up a conversation with Fareeha, and all too soon she was on the defensive, trying to think of responses to questions she had never been asked before in her life. Fareeha was ebullient, far too energetic for her profession, for her age. Angela noticed the way she still couldn’t help herself from sneaking glances at her when she thought she wasn’t looking.

Some things never changed, she supposed.

They ate a pub downtown for lunch, where Angela allowed herself a tall, sweating glass of beer.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about that beer all day,” said Fareeha, smiling.

“And if I have?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“You’re not having any?” Something about the atmosphere, perhaps the bar, the bottles of liquor along the wall, clued her in. “Your religion, maybe?” She suddenly felt guilty for having mentioned the scotch at all.

“Ah, well…” She chuckled a bit. “I try not to make a habit of it. There are a number of other things that I might have not considered doing if I hadn’t noticed you leering at me in the infirmary.”

She took a moment to process exactly what Fareeha had said. “You don’t have to drink the scotch.”

“You have better things to worry about than my prospects for getting into heaven.”

“You’re not…”

“Anyone with my preferences has to possess a healthy amount of skepticism, let’s just say. If a little alcohol is going to damn me forever, then we’re all going to hell.”

“God is lenient, then?”

“God prioritizes.” She hunched, picked up her glass of water. “Egypt is not as different as you’d think.”

“I didn’t mean to make assumptions.”

“No offense taken. Honestly, it’s a relief that there are some things even you don’t know.” She straightened up in her seat. “That just means there’s more for you to learn.”

“I’d like to meet you again in a non-professional capacity,” she said, frankly, taking a gulp of her drink. “One in which our relationship is not that of a doctor and her patient. Setting aside the fact that rules of this nature are unlikely to be enforced by our superiors, it’s… um… considerably unethical to be doing any of what we were suggesting to each other.”

“It’s not like you’re responsible for my long-term treatment. And I’m sure we’ll be meeting again sooner rather than later.”

“That’s what one would hope.” She cast a glance out at the wall, past Fareeha. “I just wanted you to know.”

She grinned. “Not so hard, was it?”

“You work in a dangerous profession. I have reason to be concerned.”

“And you’ve devoted your life to saving the lives of others. It… sounds tough. No wonder you don’t smile very often.”

“A doctor who smiles too often is a doctor who has something to hide.” She ran her fingers along the glass of her drink, took a small sip. “And no, I’m not expecting you to save me from myself, or comfort me, or make me feel secure.”

“You’re just looking for a warm body, then?”

“If that was all I wanted, then I would already have one,” she muttered, looking down at the table separating them. “I haven’t been close to anyone in years. Not since Overwatch disbanded—well, not even then, really.” She thought of what Reinhardt told her, that night looking out over the ocean. “I’m afraid to lose them.”

“You don’t want me to reassure you, so I won’t. But I’m happy you feel the same way, really. It’s more than I could ever ask for.” Fareeha snaked her hand onto the table, gave Angela’s a tentative squeeze. “I’m glad you could be here with me today.”

She looked at the hand covering her own. It was surreal. She expected a gunshot, a Talon ambush, a bomb to go off, _something_. Then she looked up at the smiling woman in front of her, and saw her head exploding in a mass of brains and blood.

She paled, turned to her beer, and drank to distract herself.

“Angela?” The smile faded.

“I’m sorry. I’ve seen a lot of people die in my time as a combat medic,” she said into her drink. “It’s good work, but it never really leaves you.”

“Should we go?”

“No.” She took a moment to examine Fareeha and all her injuries. “You never get them? Flashbacks?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to compare,” she said, and it sounded like a practiced response. “You really don’t look that good.”

In truth, she felt sick. Of all the things that could have triggered it… “The hotel’s only a few blocks away. We can pay the bill and then go.”

 

* * *

 

She’d expected the day to last a little longer than this, but neither of them were in good enough condition to spend much more time outside. They went back to her hotel, up to her room, where she sat on her bed and let the tremors wash over her.

This was why she didn’t go on vacation.

“Can I get you anything?” asked Fareeha.

“You’re in a wheelchair, dummkopf.” That was still English, right? “How do you expect to get anywhere?”

“I can get around fine!”

“I just need some time.” She sucked in sharp breaths. “I have the worst luck with these things. And, to recant my earlier statement, I would like very much if you would comfort me and make me feel secure, because I have felt neither comfortable nor secure for quite some time now.” She wanted the scotch in the hotel room safe, thought of Fareeha and her willingness to drink despite her religious beliefs, wondered how much it would take to send her to hell and decided that, no, any god worth believing in would have his reservations about damning Fareeha Amari for all eternity. She would fight that, she thought, and she had enough good deeds saved up over the years that she figured she had a fair shot at bargaining.

Fareeha watched her carefully. It was dizzying to even look back, and not for the reasons she would have preferred. “Do you want to lie down?”

“My, how the tables have turned.” Her palms felt clammy. “Just stay here,” she said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of us to be alone right now.” She looked to the side, out the window. Fareeha’s eyes kept flickering back to her, around the room, restless. “You’re thinking about it.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, actually. I know you’re worried about your mother. I’ve done a poor job of distracting you.”

“No—I mean, there was no helping it. Um…” She laughed dryly. “I’m not really sure what to do now, though.”

“There’s a bottle of scotch in the safe. The PIN code is 2046. Help yourself.”

“Really?” asked Fareeha. “That’s not very secure.”

“Do you want it or not?”

“I’m not drinking your scotch.”

“It’ll alleviate your concerns. For a few hours at least,” she muttered. “I’ll take your place in hell; I’m sure the devil would be open to an exchange. He understands German, at least.”

“Is this what you do for fun?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fun.’”

“Stress relief, then.”

“It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?”

“You look like you need it, for sure.”

“Then I’ll have some.” She stood up, walked over to the closet, punched the code into the safe and pulled the bottle out. There were two glasses in the bathroom, which she also took out. “Could you put some ice in the ice bucket, Fareeha?”

She looked at her, stunned. “Um… All right.”

Once Fareeha had returned with the ice, she poured herself a glass at her desk and sighed.

“Is that what you always do when you have flashbacks?”

“Not all the time.” She stirred the ice in the glass, waited for it to melt. “I’ve tried therapists, meditation, home remedies, so on and so forth. It isn’t much help when you’re voluntarily subjecting yourself to the trauma anyway, so I just tell myself it’s for a good cause and deal with it. Some people deal with it better than others,” she said, holding the glass to her lips, “but not by a wide margin. Some days, I can’t even listen to the news.”

Fareeha, she noticed, was sitting right next to her. Since when?

“Why don’t you drink?” she asked.

“It’s really not a good idea.”

“Maybe not.” She tipped the glass back and drank. “Some days it feels as though the world is just going to end. As though there isn’t a single thing to be happy about. You hear good news, and instead of being happy you’re cynical about it, you resent whomever it happened to, you wonder why them and not you. It’s selfish thinking. But that’s human nature.”

“That’s why you drink,” said Fareeha. “There’s a reason drinking alcohol is—is haram. Not allowed. People become dependent on it.”

“It’s depriving people of a way out.”

“It is not a way out, Angela.”

“Then you think of something better, and I’ll do that instead,” she said sharply. “I’m fine.”

“You obviously aren’t. I don’t mind if other people drink as long as they’re careful about it, but you…” She looked down, distressed. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“I appreciate the thought, at least.”

“Angela,” she said, and then reached out and took the glass from her.

Angela stared at her.

“At least don’t drink like you’ve given up on the world.” Fareeha looked into the glass. “I…” She frowned. “I just don’t know what else to—”

She grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her. Fareeha bolted upright, offering half-hearted resistance, and then gripped her shoulder.

“H-hey,” she said, easing them apart.

“I’m not drunk, if you were wondering.” If she were drunk on anything, it was probably exhaustion. “I won’t say anything if you want us to stop.”

Fareeha covered her mouth and looked to the side. “Um…” She muttered something Angela couldn’t quite make out, perhaps in Arabic. Then she looked at her. “This is so unfair.”

“If you think this is a difficult decision, then I have no sympathy for you.”

She grinned wryly. “Doctors. I… Well.” She looked down at herself. “I’m injured.”

“That won’t be a problem. Trust me.”

She laughed. “I’m… not sure if I should.”

“Well, trust me that I won’t do anything that would aggravate your injuries.”

“I don’t know about this,” she said, suddenly sheepish. “It seems like I’m taking advantage of you.”

“You probably are,” she agreed. “But you have my permission to do it.”

“The other way around is true too, no?”

“You can say no.”

“It doesn’t seem right.”

“That didn’t sound like a ‘no.’”

“Smartass.”

Angela looked at the glass still in her hands. “I don’t suppose you’re going to drink that? It’s going to go to waste.”

She wet her lips. “No,” she said, setting it down on the table, “because I want you to actually remember today.” Fareeha turned in her chair, moved so that they were both facing each other.

Angela looked at her, as if asking for permission, and then felt Fareeha’s mouth close over hers.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Ziegler had had no shortage of experience dealing with the injured, whether it was in a makeshift tent in a war zone in Kuwait or in a fully-equipped hospital in downtown Zurich. She had seen all manner of wounds, blood pouring from every crevice, every sliver of skin on the body, every organ hanging out, every muscle laid bare for the world to see. She learned to see people as objects—as problems with a solution. Bandages here, stitches there. Cauterize this, amputate that. Flesh and blood and skin and bones, and nothing more. A healthy human being was like a well-oiled machine. There were always tools to fix it, even if she had to get creative sometimes.

It was a different sort of objectification, she supposed, to be an object of pleasure. Her sexual partners had been few, but mostly in the same field—other doctors with whom she felt an attraction, enough to sleep with. She was young and attractive and everyone wanted to flirt with her, mostly men; women were more subtle about it, and as a result they always warranted more attention. She was far from naive, and knew how to separate her work from her personal life. In theory, anyway. In practice she discovered she was generally more awkward than she wanted to be, having nothing else to talk about, nothing else going on in her life. The body as a doctor and the body as a sexual partner were different, even though, physically speaking, they were one and the same.

She never slept with patients. That was common sense. She had handled patients before, countless times, into and out of beds and wheelchairs, but never for the purposes of sleeping with them. She tried to avoid being too friendly with them for obvious reasons. Personal involvement would cloud her judgment, and she had to be able to make the best possible decisions for the people in her care. Even if the chemistry was there, there was a certain conflict of interest, a certain degree of emotional manipulation, a chance that the patient would have too much control over the situation and suddenly the doctor would start prescribing drugs they didn’t need.

Fareeha, emotionally compromising patient though she was, seemed to have little interest in telling her how to do her job. She was talkative and disarmingly friendly, passionate about her own career, and possessed of an overwhelming fondness for the Overwatch of old. If she were about to convince her to do anything stupid, it had nothing to do with her own treatment. Sleeping with her was still a bad idea—it robbed Angela of the ability to be impartial—but doctors were human beings, not gods. All doctors made poor decisions; all doctors were emotionally compromised; all doctors made mistakes, sometimes huge ones, that left regrets like livid scars in their wake. Her entire life was defined by impossible choices, to the extent that this one was as simple as could be.

If she were wrong about it, then so be it.

The thought gave her confidence. Angela leaned in, grabbed her good shoulder, pressed her left knee between her thighs, felt an arm wrap around her and a gasp that was more palpable than audible. Her other leg hung gracelessly over the wheelchair’s right arm. In this position, Fareeha was a fair bit underneath her, and Angela realized she had to hunch to reach her.

“Wait,” Fareeha murmured, trying unsuccessfully to move her mouth away, “mm, not in the… You can’t seriously be—”

“Stop talking.”

She pressed a hand to Fareeha’s chest, still tender from the past week’s wounds, and slid it down lower.

“Not in the chair!” she hissed.

“Why not?”

“Is this some kind of—mmn—is this some kind of kink you have?” Fareeha’s hand slipped from her back to grab her wrist. “Doing someone in a wheelchair?”

“It wasn’t before, but it might be one now.” Her mouth moved down, from Fareeha’s jawline to her neck.

“No,” she said, pressing herself back against the chair. “At least move to the bed. How am I supposed to touch you back?”

She untangled herself from the wheelchair. “My God, you are incorrigible.”

Fareeha steered herself to the bed, and then stared. “It’s… a little high up, don’t you think?”

Angela sighed and walked over and sat on the bed. She patted the space next to her. “Come on.”

She hesitated, and then pressed her good hand into the bed. “It’s so soft. Your back must be killing you.” Fareeha practically sank into it, clambered up with her elbow and her good knee.

They kissed; Angela pushed her down by her good shoulder, straddling her, and slipped her other hand into her waistband.

“You move fast.”

“I’m a busy woman.”

Fareeha grinned. Her stomach was wonderfully flat and smooth, and when she ran her fingers along it the muscles tensed. “Are we really in a hurry, though?”

“Was there something else you wanted me to do first?” Her eyes flickered to her sling, to her clothes. “You’re injured. Most of your body is off-limits to me in the first place.”

“So you go straight for the crotch.”

Angela smiled, slipped her hand out of her waistband and up her ribs, sliding her shirt up.

“The sling.”

She looked at it. “Are you…”

“You can take it off. Please.”

Angela reached from behind, undid the clasp, and pulled the sling from her arm.

She gave her shoulder a little shrug and smiled. “Much better.”

They pulled off her shirt, and Angela pressed her mouth to bare skin as the layers came off, moving lower. Fareeha was warm and flushed and eager, hungry to touch and be touched in return, and her good hand worked Angela up and down, past her stomach and between her legs until she was left wanting and breathless. It was, by all accounts, sex in a hotel room with a disabled person in the middle of the day, but she spent far too much of it with her face buried in her lover’s skin to think terribly hard about the how and the why and the where.

 

* * *

 

It was with great reluctance that Angela peeled herself from Fareeha’s side later in the day. The alarm clock read 18:18, and the sun was beginning to set.

“Where are you going?”

Damn. She thought she’d been asleep. “I still have work to do, you know.” She headed for the bathroom to wash herself off.

Fareeha clucked her tongue, murmured something she didn’t understand, and then said, “I’ll go in after you. If we go in together, we’re never going to get out.”

She made her shower quick, partly to dissuade Fareeha from changing her mind and partly because lingering invited fantasies that she could have easily turned into reality.

“I was going to get dinner,” she said, after she had dried her hair and dressed herself. “Did you want anything in particular?”

“Not really,” said Fareeha, and Angela’s eyes followed her around the room, the pit of her stomach still thick with arousal. “Though I have to say, the pub food was pretty bland.” After a moment, she noticed Angela watching her, and laughed and said, “It’s going to be so obvious what happened when we get back.”

“You think so?”

She paused at the doorway into the bathroom, and looked at her. “Well.” She smiled a bit. “I guess that depends, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t have the heart to check her phone or her laptop while Fareeha took her bath. Her mind was still on fire, still unable to process anything that had just happened. She did remember what was happening only a few hundred kilometers away, in Rabat, and realized with miserable clarity that sleeping with Fareeha would change none of that.

Dinner was carryout that Angela brought back to the room. Fareeha was clingy, no longer able to help herself. They ended up making out again, inadvertently, and it was in the midst of this that Angela heard her phone ring.

She took a deep breath to compose herself, and then picked up her phone. “This is Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela.”

“ _Scheisse_ ,” she swore under her breath. It was Winston. “Is this about the mission?”

“It was a success.”

She almost dropped her phone. “Really?”

Fareeha turned and watched her with focused interest.

“They’ll be here tonight,” he said. “I suspect Captain Amari will want to hear this.”

“Do you want to tell her yourself?”

“Is she with you?” In more ways than one now, she supposed.

“Yes,” she replied. “One moment, please.” She held the phone away from her ear. “It’s Winston,” she told Fareeha. “He has good news.”

Her expression blossomed into one of hope. “Please.” She took the phone from her hands. “Hello, Winston? Oh…” She held her hand to her mouth, murmured something in Arabic. “Thank God. Everyone is OK?” Tears welled in her eyes. “God bless you, Winston.” She slipped into Arabic again. “I can’t believe it.” She looked at Angela. “My mother’s alive, Angela. She’s alive!”

“Did Winston tell you when they were coming back?”

“Later in the evening,” said Fareeha. “Let’s call Reinhardt. I don’t want to miss any of this.”

 

* * *

 

Reinhardt was grinning as he came to pick them up.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard the good news?”

“We did, in fact,” said Angela as she climbed into the passenger’s seat. “That’s why we called.”

“Winston said they should be here in a few hours.” Reinhardt floored it, a little too much for city traffic. “I can’t wait to see Jack and Ana again! And Lena will be here too. I brought a few things to celebrate.”

Angela thought of the scotch in her room. Too late now, she supposed.

“We ordered some food too. Oh, I can’t wait!”

He drove even more crazily than usual, enough to give even Angela a little motion sickness. “Reinhardt, if you keep driving like this, we might not make it to our destination.”

“Angela, you can’t say you’re not going to join Overwatch anymore.”

“I never said I was leaving.”

“Fareeha!” he boomed. “What are you going to do now, eh?” He turned the music on his radio up, furious with adrenaline.

“I still have to wait for my suit!” she yelled over the noise. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a job!”

Angela turned it back down. “Please, Reinhardt.”

“You don’t understand. This is like… This is like coming back up for air after being underwater. It’s momentous. I can’t even begin to explain how important this is.”

They reached the Watchpoint in about half the time they normally did, and Reinhardt insisted they go straight to Winston’s lab.

It was decorated, amazingly, with a huge banner reading “Welcome Back” over the natural rock face that made up one section of the wall. Below that, a folding table with a cake and some small sandwiches and crudités, as though they were hosting a party.

“Do you like it?” asked Winston. Nike was resting on his shoulder. It was as if the whole world had gone and flipped completely upside down.

“I love it!” said Fareeha, grinning. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with myself for the next few hours.”

“We actually forgot to administer your Osteolyte today,” Angela said, suddenly. “We should probably do that at some point…”

“Relax!” Reinhardt squeezed her shoulder. “The worst is over. I know the first thing you’re going to do is examine everyone for injuries when they come back, but the only thing worrying will accomplish right now is giving you wrinkles.”

She frowned at him. “I see it hasn’t helped you any.”

“Come back in twenty years and tell me that again.”

Angela looked around the room—at Winston and his cat, at Fareeha, mesmerized by the festivities, at Reinhardt and at the omnics that the base seemed to be accumulating on a daily basis.

She excused herself, and stepped out of the room outside, and pulled out her phone. It was dark now, and her phone beamed blue light as she navigated the menus. The first thing she pulled up was the e-mail containing Winston’s original recall message and video. She watched it once, twice over again, and thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Angela had a bad habit of checking her work email whenever there was some kind of celebration going on. It was almost as though she was trying to make herself miserable. She had one day left in Gibraltar and then it was back to Zurich—though likely not for long. She spent two whole hours going through her backlog: two hours from their arrival back to the Watchpoint to prepare for the party, to the subsequent ping from Tracer that they’d arrived, to Reinhardt’s frenetic drive to the harbor and back again, to Fareeha and her mother, finally reunited.

Besides Ana, there were only a few other faces she hadn’t yet seen—Jack, Lena, Genji—but they all regarded her with something veering between utter shock and utter joy. She saw Jack smile at her for the first time in years. Ana was here in the flesh, which spoke volumes in itself. Genji was remarkably warm and laid-back, by way of an omnic monk named Zenyatta, or so Angela had been told. Reinhardt cried and pulled everyone into big, crushing bear hugs. Nike weaved in between all the partygoers’ legs before returning to Winston, periodically, to perch on his shoulders.

“Angela,” said Jack, clasping her on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it.” In his hand was a plastic cup filled with something clear and fizzy. Soda? Champagne?

“Thank Lena. She was the one who convinced me.”

“That’s what we keep her around for.” He took a sip of his drink. “It was a successful mission, on all accounts. No serious injuries, and we kept Talon casualties low. You would’ve been proud.” He looked down at the ground for a moment, furrowing his brow. “I hear you’re leaving on Friday. Won’t ask you to come back, but…”

“Then you’re already better than Reinhardt.”

Jack looked at her.

“I…” She let her gaze settle on Fareeha, selfishly. “I still have things I must do.” The list was never-ending, really; she would always have something to do. “I will return, though—perhaps in a different capacity than you might have expected.”

“I understand,” he said. “Lena says you were looking after Ana’s kid?”

“Captain Amari. Yes. Her recovery is going well. What’s really preventing her from going home is the damaged suit, from what I understand.”

“Jesse says he’s got contacts in the U.S. that can fix it up for her.”

She looked at him. “Does he?”

“From his Blackwatch days.”

“I see.”

“Amari tell you what she’s gonna do once she’s out of here?”

“As I said, it depends on the suit.” It was a little strange to see Fareeha now, seated, enraptured at her mother’s side. She imagined Fareeha, the excitable teenager who spoke in rapid, surprisingly fluent English, talking Reinhardt’s ear off. Had it really been that long?

“You worried about her?”

“No,” she said distractedly. “She can take care of herself.”

“Reinhardt tells me the two of you were so stressed out you took the day off,” said Jack. “Might not hurt to take a longer vacation.”

She stared at her, and then massaged her forehead. “You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that. At any rate, the mission seems to have gone well, and we have Ana in safe hands again. I have less to be stressed out about, now.”

She spotted Lena out of the corner of her eye, and then a flash of blue.

Lena stood right next to her. “Oi, Angela! Long time no see.” She grinned. “Genji’s here too! He flew into Rabat straight from Taiwan. Looks good, don’t ya think?”

“He is looking well, yes.”

Jack smiled at her, waved and left the pair to themselves.

“Said he spent some time with these omnics in Nepal. Was one of the first agents to respond to the recall, actually.” Lena looked around, beaming. “This is the first time Jack’s been to the Watchpoint since the recall, believe it or not. Ana—well, I think that one’s obvious—Jesse’s been in and out, spends most of his time in the States, and I think Torbjorn’s in Russia somewhere right now, dealin’ with the omnics.” She set her hands on her hips. “I never left the Watchpoint in the first place, so… I mean, we got others, scattered here and there. But it feels good to get somethin’ done once in a while, know what I mean?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling.

“Heard you got a hot date with Captain Amari.”

Angela blinked at her. “Is that all Reinhardt talked about on the drive here?”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you sort of a… workaholic? I mean, right now I’d expect the steam to be risin’ from your forehead.” She pointed to the bandage on her arm. “You’re not gonna ask me about this?”

“You’re going to live, Lena.”

“You’re not worried that Overwatch’s… gonna implode on itself again? That it’s a bad idea for the whole gang to be back together again? That someone’s gonna set off a bomb at the Watchpoint and we’re all gonna die here?”

Angela frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

“It didn’t sound like you, what Reinhardt said, that’s all. Actually, it sounded so unlike you I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Do I look like I’m in need of help?”

“You never do. That was kind of my point.” Lena looked up at her, then quirked her lips a bit. “You seem different now. I like it.”

She furrowed her brow. “I… do?”

“I mean, maybe I’m just seeing things.” She turned around to look at Ana and Fareeha, and then back again. “Come to think of it, you knew Fareeha from way back when, didn’t you? Before she joined the army, even.”

“I did,” she said, cautiously. “Though we weren’t very familiar.”

Lena smiled. “So it was like a reunion, then. Cor, that must’ve been awkward.”

“You could say that.”

“Nice girl, though, ain’t she? When I first heard about her, I thought she’d have a real stick up her arse, but she can turn the Army training on and off just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Sexy, really.”

Angela flushed in surprise, which Lena noticed. She grinned.

“Oh? You agree with me, don’t ya?”

She turned away, blanking on a proper response. Leave it to Tracer of all people to fluster her.

“So it was a date!” Lena nudged her. “How was it?”

“Lena…”

“I knew somethin’ was off!”

She wasn’t wrong. “I’d really rather not…”

“C’mon, spill! Of all the things to be doing while we were smuggling her mum out of Morocco… I can understand if you were stressed, bein’ stuck there and all, but…” She grinned even wider than before. “Real shameless of you, I’d say. Ain’t she supposed to be your patient?”

“Yes.” It was ill-advised, yes. They probably shouldn’t have, yes.

“But you did it anyway.”

“Yes.”

Lena looked at her, scrunching her brow. “You’re not kidding? Like, you actually… Hasn’t it only been a few—and even she’s in a…”

“Lena.” Angela fixed her with a look that could possibly be interpreted as threatening.

She clamped her mouth shut. “I’ll stop. Good catch, and good luck.” She blinked away, leaving an afterimage in highlighter blue. She really needed to stop using the accelerator so freely.

In her place stood Jesse. “So. You and Captain Amari.”

“ _Herrgott_ ,” she groaned aloud. “Whatever it is you wanted to ask, the answer is probably ‘yes.’ To everything.”

“Even—”

“No one was drunk. Other than that, yes,” she said, glaring at him and running perilously thin on patience.

He held his hands up. “All right, all right. I gotcha. You don’t look like you’re about to throw yourself off a cliff anymore, at least.”

“You’re not about to tell me how bad of an idea it is?”

“You’re a responsible adult. I trust you can handle yourself.”

She frowned at him.

“What now?” he asked.

“Should I expect anyone else to ask me? First Lena, then you—I’m sure Jack was thinking about it, but he was too polite to ask.”

“Only have yourself to blame for…” he flashed his teeth, “ _fraternizin’_ with a patient.”

“I suppose so.” She folded her arms. “I hear the mission went well.”

“Ana and Jack contacted a few old… friends, shall we say, from the pre-Petras days. Timing was tricky, but we hardly even saw Talon. Tracer and Genji took care of the ones who were hidin’. Guess it wasn’t worth it for Talon to cause a scene. Lack of action concerns me a little, actually, but,” he shrugged, “what can you do.”

“I’m sure you’ll be the first to know if there is something more behind it.”

“No doubt they’ve got bigger plans in mind.” He nodded at her. “Well, relax and enjoy yourself, doc. You talk to Ana yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

Jesse smiled like an open wound. Then he patted her on the shoulder and said, “Good luck with that.”

 

* * *

 

It was late into the night before Angela managed to procure a moment of the elder Amari’s time. When she was free, Angela approached her, looked at Fareeha, and then turned back at Ana again.

Ana smiled at her. Her expression was obscure, as always. “Dr. Ziegler. You’re in high spirits.”

“This is what you’d call ‘high spirits?’”

“Well, certainly for you. I understand you’ve been treating my daughter.”

“Yes. Her recovery has been going well. She should be fine after her full regimen of treatment. I don’t foresee any long-term problems.” She paused. “Do you know what the plans are for her Raptora suit?”

“Yes, yes. Her mother just came back from the dead; we’ll have plenty of time to think about that later. Have you tried the sandwiches?” she asked, switching the topic. “They’re quite excellent.”

“I did.” There were both cheese and ham and egg salad varieties. It was adequate enough for party food, and they needed it after having only managed to get about halfway through dinner.

“And the champagne?”

“That was champagne?”

“Cheap champagne. Why else would there be so many bottles?” She chuckled, looked down at her daughter. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to look down at Fareeha, rather than up.”

“And you’ll be doing that again in a few weeks,” said Fareeha. She glanced at Angela. “You’ve been quite the social butterfly this evening.”

“I’ve been catching up. I haven’t seen anyone in years.”

“I heard about the recall,” said Ana. “I didn’t expect you of all people to respond.”

“I’m… not officially a part of Overwatch.”

“I didn’t think Overwatch was official yet.” Ana was quiet. “We put you through a lot, Angela. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Reinhardt said the same thing.”

“Did he?” Her eyes lit up. “Well, you were rather young when you joined. You and Lena. And now Fareeha wants to join, and the first thing she does and go and get herself blasted to bits.” She pinched Fareeha’s arm.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get for being reckless.”

Fareeha rubbed her arm. “You don’t need to make it any worse.”

“Thank you for taking care of Fareeha, by the way.”

“Oh,” said Angela. “Um… Of course,” she said, trying not to avert her eyes. Had she caught on? She must have. If Jesse and Lena wouldn’t shut up about it, then surely…

“Don’t do anything stupid, either,” she said, suddenly. “I heard about what you did today from Reinhardt. I’m not completely certain of the nature of your relationship with my daughter, but if nothing else you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“Oh,” said Angela, again. Her eyes flickered down to Fareeha, who was desperately trying to pretend she wasn’t listening and doing a poor job of it. “It wasn’t… I suppose it must’ve seemed suspicious.”

“Dear, you have been nothing but from the start. You’re a very bright woman, but you’re easily pressured.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Well, you were easily pressured. Looking at you now, I see that might not be the case anymore. How many years has it been? Five? Five, at least.”

“Six, since Overwatch was disbanded. No, God, it’s been longer…” She didn’t even want to think about it.

“And it all went downhill from there. We were so worried about you and Jesse. Can you imagine? As though you were our children. You’re grown adults, obviously, but it was such a disaster, the whole investigation; Jack was a fool.” She clucked her tongue. “You know more about it than I do—I’m sure this wasn’t the first time you’ve had to treat someone in secret.”

She felt a sudden wave of nausea, suppressing memories that bubbled up from the depths of her unconscious. “Yes,” she said. “Well.”

“What I mean to say is, I understand your reluctance.” She smiled hard. “How old are you now?”

“Thirty-seven,” she said, as if to remind herself.

“That’s so hard to believe. You have plenty of time. Twenty years,” she said, deep in thought. “Huh. Twenty years since the child prodigy first graced us with her presence.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Ana.”

“But you’ll always be a prodigy. Not as ambitious nowadays, are you?”

“I’m not looking to benefit myself.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Ana looked around and sighed. “Well, considering you’ve been staring at Fareeha all evening, I’d figured you want to have her to yourself for a spell. I’ll go talk to Reinhardt; he’s always good for a laugh.” She touched Fareeha on the shoulder. “Behave yourselves now,” she said. Then she went on her way.

Angela exhaled. “Every time. Your mother is really something, you know that?”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Fareeha groaned and turned to her. “Everyone knows, Angela. I think Reinhardt must’ve—or everyone’s minds were already in the gutter, and they just happened to be right this time.”

“It was unusual of me, I’ll admit.” She looked at her, realized she was holding her breath again.

“Why don’t we go outside?” she suggested. “I think everyone expected us to go off together, anyway.”

They went up to the top of the cliff, and Angela leaned over the railing where Reinhardt handed her coffee only a few days earlier. It was dark, breezy, with a few more clouds in the sky.

“You can see a lot of stars out here.”

“You’d be able to see more, if not for the light pollution.”

She clucked her tongue. “You always have to be a downer about everything, don’t you?” Fareeha grinned.

“It’s true. There are few places in the world now that aren’t affected by it. Only in uninhabited areas, like national parks, or the forests of Siberia.”

“Is this something you think about often?”

“It just came to mind.”

“You need to train yourself out of that,” said Fareeha. “Thinking about all the problems that exist in the world. It’s not as bad as thinking only about yourself all the time, but…” She looked at her. “Isn’t it depressing?”

“Someone has to do it.”

“Yeah, but not every waking moment. I mean, look out at the ocean, feel the breeze streaming through your hair. Just… be like that cyborg man, Genji. He knows what life’s about.”

“Maybe I should ask him for tips.”

“You should.”

Angela was quiet. “You were listening to my conversation with your mother,” he said.

“I… Well, yes, I was. I’m not going to deny it.”

“I can’t tell what she thinks of us.”

“If you’re worried that you’re not good enough for her, don’t be. If anything, she’s probably worried that _I’m_ not good enough for you.”

Angela looked at her.

She narrowed her eyes. “What? Genius doctor Angela Ziegler who pioneered a breakthrough in nanoscience that saved hundreds of thousands of lives at least isn’t good enough for some deadbeat in a bird costume?”

She couldn’t resist a smile. “What are you talking about?”

“Compared to you—especially in my mother’s eyes—it’s no contest. You’ve already left your mark on the world. I have yet to leave mine.”

“It’s not as incredible as you’re making it sound.”

“Oh, stop being coy. I’m sure you wouldn’t have lasted in your field if your ego wasn’t at least as large as your bibliography.”

“Fareeha.”

“Think about it, though,” she said. “You’re like my mother. You’re hardly the type to settle down. Do you ever plan on retiring?”

“It’s far too soon for that.”

“See? Exactly like her.” She stared down at her legs. “Once I can use all my limbs again, I’ll be… Honestly, I don’t know where I’ll be. I’d just gotten a promotion, too. Helix offers good money, you know, protecting that awful God Program. But…” She sighed. “Overwatch, now that’s something else. I don’t think anyone cares that we’re together—I mean, are we, even? But it does make things awkward, and I doubt everyone would be OK with it. That’s implying you even plan to become a part of Overwatch again.”

“Not as their chief medical officer, at least. As an adviser, perhaps.”

“I wish I could be romantic right now and say something about how we’ll always be together, even when we’re apart, but you wouldn’t buy it for a minute.” She smiled a bit. “Would you?”

“No, probably not.”

“Good.” She looked out onto the water. “It was… Today was nice,” she said. “I don’t know why I expected my mother to be changed somehow—she honestly hasn’t changed one bit—and everyone coming back, it’s a good thing. It paints a big ugly target on the Watchpoint, but we ought to have expected that. And Jesse says he knows some people in the U.S. who can fix up my suit.”

“I’d heard.”

“So, Angela.” Fareeha looked at her. “What now?”

“Are you asking…?”

“It wasn’t exactly a one-night stand with a beautiful stranger, is what I am saying.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “When will we see each other again?”

“Probably not for a while,” she admitted. “You live in Switzerland; I live in Egypt. But it could be worse. They could be farther apart. Are you OK with long distance?”  
“You can’t seriously be asking me that.” Did she even really have friends? She had associates, contacts, partners in the field. But she rarely made time for herself. She was too busy, she claimed. Not too embarrassed to admit that she was shy or that she was worried that she had nothing else to talk about, but too busy for this socializing nonsense.

“Can I at least call you?”

“You can. I can’t promise that I’ll answer.”

“Now you’re being coy.” Fareeha reached up, took Angela’s hand in her own, and kissed it. “Whatever happens from now on, I’m grateful for what happened today. At least something good came out of being injured.”

“Don’t expect that to happen all the time,” said Angela with a wry smile.

“ _Jazak Allah_ ,” she said. “You’re doing God’s work.”

Angela blinked. “Come again?”

“Ah. Thanks, I mean,” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t think of a better term. I can’t believe I’m thanking you for being horny.” She cracked a grin. “And tempting me with alcohol. I’ve seen the posters with you, all dressed up like an angel. They’re really ridiculous.”

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Gabriel’s idea.”

“Some people say it’s like you practically bring back the dead.”

“That’s not true, either.” She thought of Genji. “And you don’t want to see what happens when we try.”

“Well, that’s the image you’re stuck with. ‘Mercy,’ huh?” She smiled a bit. “I… know you have your regrets. But you’re a good person at heart. So, _jazak Allah_. ‘May God reward you.’”

Fareeha was still holding her hand. Angela looked down. “Um…”

“Oh.” She let go. “Sorry. My palm must be getting sweaty; I’m saying so many embarrassing things.”

“No, it’s not that.” She wrung her hands, sheepish. “I feel like I’m… We’re really polar opposites in so many ways. Not that I’m offended—”

“Do you not believe in God?”

“I have my… reservations.”

“Does it bother you when I say things like that?”

“Do my beliefs bother you?” Angela asked.

“No. No,” she said, shaking her head. “Ugh, this whole multiculturalism thing is not working out in my favor today. I… What a funny thing to say, though.” Fareeha looked at her, then frowned again. “No. Was that offensive? Damn it, I don’t know anymore.”

She chuckled. “You can stop. I’ve been told thanks in many languages over the years. I understand what you mean. Coming from you, though… It’s different,” she murmured. “Wishing me well.”

“I couldn’t think of anything better to say. It sounds better than just... Thanks. It means that you deserve more than just my gratitude. That the world owes you a favor.”

She reached down, cupped Fareeha’s cheek in her hand. “I should be the one thanking you,” she said.

“Did I save you?” she asked, unable to suppress a smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said, and smiled and leaned over and kissed her.

 

* * *

 

Her final day at the Watchpoint went by in a blink. She administered one last Osteolyte injection to Fareeha’s injuries, performed rudimentary checkups for the returning members of Winston’s fledgling Overwatch, and checked the additional medical equipment that Winston had ordered thus far. Everything looked to be in order, and it was certainly more boisterous, not to mention less private, now that so many people were here. She and Fareeha had little time to each other, and their farewell had been as quick as the rest, if not without a few extra, tentative promises.

After she had said her goodbyes to everyone, the last person she met was Reinhardt.

“Angela,” he said, confronting her in the back lot. He spoke in German, and his voice sounded old and gruff. “ _I’m due out on another mission tomorrow, in Berlin. I was hoping to see you before you left._ ”

“ _Of course,_ ” she said. “ _What is it?_ ”

“ _You aren’t… angry,_ ” he asked, “ _are you?_ ”

“ _Angry?_ ” She furrowed her brow. “ _Whatever for?_ ”

“ _I pushed you. I made you feel uncomfortable. I know why you left. I have a sense of what you saw, when you were treating people who were… interrogated by Blackwatch. I can imagine the things you were asked to do—and the things you were asked to hide._ ”

“ _I’m not angry, Reinhardt._ ”

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” he said. “ _My days, they are numbered. I can’t keep running around in that heavy suit._ ” He paused to think. “ _From what I understand, you are coming back. As a consultant, perhaps. I welcome you to the new Overwatch. And… I misunderstood your reason for coming here. You came because of Fareeha—because you were worried about her. Not because you thought we were going to fail._ ” He sighed. “ _I was so worried we had ruined you for good._ ”

“ _Reinhardt, no._ ”

“ _Right?_ ” He smiled a bit. “ _You’ve long since grown up. It seems that I may have forgotten that. But we are old soldiers. One day it will be time for us to hang it up, and let the new blood take our place._ ” He approached her, took her shoulders in his huge hands. “ _You’re most likely going to outlive us, Ana and Jack and me. Whatever this world becomes, it’s going to be you—your generation—that leads it._ ” He squeezed her shoulders, gently. “ _Not to pressure you, aha, but just to remind myself… It is our messes that you are going to inherit. It is our sins, our excesses, our mistakes. I only hope that whatever we have left behind will be enough._ ” He smiled, slow and distant and sad. “ _Now, are you packed up?_ ” He let go. “ _Let’s get into the car. I will be even closer to you in Zurich come tomorrow! You haven’t gotten rid of me yet, haha!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Her flight to Zurich was in the evening the next day, and she came home to an empty apartment and a pile of work that was only going to grow larger. She thought of Fareeha’s words to her two days before. Did she do long distance?

She looked at her phone, at Fareeha’s number saved in her contact list. Fareeha had her number; she’d called her before. After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped the number on her list and held the phone to her ear.

Silence. The phone rang once, twice.

Nothing. She was probably busy.

Angela sighed. That was just her luck, wasn’t it? She flipped open her laptop and pulled up a research paper she had been working prior to Tracer’s call. She had been in the middle of editing, making sure all the necessary information was both there and intelligible to the scientific community if no one else.

She was halfway through the paper when her phone rang. She groaned. “Immer unterbricht mich wer bei der Arbeit.” Then she picked up and answered, “This is Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela?” It was Fareeha’s voice. “You called?”

“Fareeha,” she said. “I made it back home safe. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Good! That’s good. Listen, my suit’s already on a plane to be shipped to the States…”

Angela held a hand to her mouth. She smiled huge, wide, private, leaned back in her chair, and listened. Her laptop screen continued to flicker electronic blue. Then, after a few more minutes of neglect, it went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:
> 
> \- the gratuitous German phrase at the end is 1) something Mercy actually says in the game (run it through Google Translate) and 2) a direct result of a request of a certain someone
> 
> \- if Pharah seems worried about being politically incorrect it is only because _I'm_ worried about being politically incorrect somehow about her; please be nice if I happened to get something wrong ;;;;;


End file.
